Unseen Fortunes and Pitfalls
by Telaka
Summary: When mutants breed. A story revolving around the consecutive pregnancies of Ororo, Rogue and Jean.
1. Silver Lining

_**Unseen Fortunes and Pitfalls**_

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**_Disclaimer: _**How much of Marvel or the X-Men's asses do you really think I own?**__**

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**_Author's Note_**

Yes, this might look familiar to some people (a rare few though I'd imagine); it is the complete revamp (very much for the better) of one of my favourite stories, _Unseen Fortunes and Pitfalls,_ which leads onto my _Childhood_ series (taken down also for revamps).

_Warning_: it is _very_ out of synch now with what is happening right now in the comics, almost AU in fact, but not quite. When I first wrote this Jean and Scott were still together, Rogue and Remy were thinking about it, Ororo was Ororo, Logan just Logan and the institute housed a bare minimum of a dozen at a time (I am talking from about the '98 period, when the art wade rich). Then I picked up _Uncanny X-Men _#444 the other day and almost lost my head. Before that I had read '_Storm: The Arena_' and before that I kinda stopped reading _Uncanny _and _New _and only occasionally flicked through _X-Treme_. I suppose it's my fault that I don't know where Jean is or why Scott's in the shadows with Emma in a random office, but I've fallen out with the writers now (it wont be for long though, don't worry) and I also don't care how out of canon this story is.

A long A.N, I know, so I think it's to the story now.

(Oh, and if anyone could tell me where Jean is and why Scott and Emma are as they are, that be appreciated. _Now_ to the story.)

_-Telaka-_

_-Chapter One – Silver Lining-_

A pathetic whisper of a footfall trying desperately to run on a flourish of hot white pain through a limp and a stumble moved across the wet winds of a night soaked in ebony shadows and dark, sickening despair. There might have been a cry and a sob to follow the hobble if the throat that belonged to the body in distress could bring herself at all to speak, even to whimper or utter a call of much needed help, but she simply couldn't.

So she just ran. She forced herself on through tearing agony, not feeling the physical pain that shot decisively through her body but instead only the mental torture that marked the beginning of a nightmare long to be dreamt for months to come.

She eventually, in the midst of exhaustion and drainage of will, fell prey to the scars of the pavements as her toe stubbed into a pothole long abandoned to be fixed and her entire supple, battered body crashed heavily into the rain soaked ground below.

Her chin was the unfortunate body part that took the brunt of the trip, splitting open without any hesitation as dark, frozen skin met the face of merciless grey concrete.

She was now not inches from the putrid aging curb of the sidewalk and only a foot away from a swelling sewer-drain, clogged with years of neglect to clean. The brown, soiled water of the filter accumulated fast in the treacherous downpour and found itself quickly climbing the step up to the pavement, where it created offspring of many deep, wading puddles.

One puddle found itself lined with a generous spill of fresh, warm blood, and the murky water soon found itself then drawn to the chin from which the waterfall of crimson poured.

It slipped into her mouth, found a right of passage through her flared nostrils and with ease began a slow suffocation of drowning on the pathetic figure of a woman just violated. Only a twitch of her swollen fingers and a flicker from her bruised ankles showed any signs of her fighting the rushing darkness, before she evaluated a final decease as the 'perfect end' to the 'perfect night'.

There were those who would disagree however.

The steady, soothing drum of the mild storm against a sleek black road was cut through ruthlessly as rubber and engine tore recklessly in a haste of terror to the street where the woman had given up her fight. The old, battered jeep had hardly the time to break when its driver abandoned his post at the wheel and landed forcefully in the drenched lands of inner city New York.

Through every impossible odd she was still alive enough to sense the fresh touch of skin on her face once again as rough hands pulled her from the drowning puddle and forced her against every fibre of her will to breath again.

She battled with searing pain as she filled her soaked lungs with clammy air once again and summoned the strength to fight off the touch, one that almost frightened her into the doorway of death again.

"It's okay darlin', ah got you."

She fought through the swirling mess of water in her ears and the dark, dirty haze that shivered over her mind simply to hear those words, and to confirm that they were genuine from the actual person they claimed to be. She could only prey however in the end that he was. She was in no state to determine anything with sound clarity.

Her arms jerked and every vain in them coursed with pain until she found a neck to wrap them round and a torso to lean her battered head into. And how she savoured the warmth of both. She had only been left to run and then drown in the cold of the rains for a half hour now, but her mind could not fully comprehend what it was like to be warm anymore. She couldn't comprehend what it felt to be safe anymore. Although she fully understood what it was to be violated now.

The backs of her knees flared with agony as he tried with all amount of delicacy not to provoke any further hurt in her, a wholly impossible task as very little of her had been left untouched.

The jeep rested stationary only a couple tens of yards away. It became a marathon to reach it as she began to squirm and protest with the unintentional pain he caused in his stubbornly protective grip. She was down, and out, but she would always be as strong as any man and willing to fight so.

"C'mon darlin', work with me a little here eh?"

His plead fell useless on a set of deaf, waterlogged ears. She kicked and wrestled pathetically through the journey, but although she had the body to posses enough strength, even beaten like this, to challenge any man to a fair duel, Logan was hardly the averagely built man; too short, too stout and too strong for the appearance of himself.

He only held her tighter as he went, burning the bruises on her ribs and setting her kneecaps on fire, but she stopped her hapless struggles in the end.

In the back of the jeep sat a haphazard pile of blankets that he had throw across the leather seats in haste before he had gone out on this horrific search. He had known with a grudging instinct that he'd need them when he eventually found what he went out looking for. As Ororo almost fitted in the shivers that flowed through her blue tinted body he blessed every one of them.

The back door was opened with great difficulty, but opened nonetheless. His mercilessly tight grip began to loosen. She hadn't the fight left in her to seize the opportunity to struggle in her agonising blindness again. Very carefully with gentleness so rarely seen in him Logan put her down in the back and made swift work of smothering her in a pile of three thick, woollen blankets. It took off the biting edges of her frozen body, but did nothing else to help. Whatever else she needed would have to be received back at the mansion.

His hand lingered on her jaw line, caressing it with all scowling sympathy. Down the right hand side of her face was a bruise so harsh it boasted a streak of black and crimson down the middle of a dark, shimmering indigo swell. Droplets of blood spat from tiny pinpricks where the anonymous force had been dealt the hardest across her cheekbone and he let some of it smear onto his fingertips before he pulled himself with great difficulty away from her.

"Just hang on 'Ro, I'll get you back soon as ah can."

She knew all of this was happening, somewhere, but it seemed to be at such a distance it frightened her that she would never be able to return back to where the voice was coming from. His entire being and the black night that surrounded him in the background was slurry, the icy, mocking rain numb against her bare arms and face, and painful everywhere to the touch.

The only thing that ran clear through her senses was His face scarred deep into her memory, His voice as He cried out in some manner of twisted triumph and the cold hard abusing touch that partnered with it. All off this vivid in her mind as she passed through into an unwanted veil of suffocating darkness.

. . . . . . .

A terror of lightening with a volley of shaken thunder abused the old, gracious mansion and its vast sweeping grounds. The black rains drenched the tenderly cared for lawns and flowerbeds, stems of thick, rich green and petals of all exotic shades now dead and drowned in the ungodly downpour. The rooftops swelled to unthinkable temperatures as the threat of a lightning strike missed the mossy top of the house by mere inches. No spread of silvery moonlight was left anymore in what had been a cool, pleasant night now turned into a victim of a horrendous turn of the weather.

It played on the overcast atmosphere of the mansion, and the dark, itchy moods of the current occupants. Each flash of pale blue lit up a dangerous glint of apprehension in several sets of reddened eyes, staring at nothing and waiting impatiently for all possible outcomes. They gathered in the cold living room and ignored the goose bumps that taunted every inch of their vulnerably exposed skin.

The entrance hall almost shook away several layers of plaster as in the next heard of thunder the front door was hammered upon with more force than was entirely necessary. The sole of a heavy boot clad foot continued to kick hard on its varnished pine shell before one of the apprehensive crowd in the living room, Rogue, went forward to open it.

She was given no time to even draw breath to speak before Logan came in, as wet as the lawns with a face as haunted in shadows as the small growth of forestry outside. In his arms was Ororo, as limp and pale looking as if she were dead. Only the pulsing trickles of blood that dripped ceaselessly from under the ankles of her white flares and the tangle of her thick, stark white hair proved that theory wrong.

Logan carried himself and his deadweight bundle to the medical bay before Remy, Scott and Jean had a second to emerge themselves from the living room to catch a glimpse of what state he had brought home with him. Hank was the only person he would tolerate to speak to right now, all else would be ran down before he was stopped. He disappeared in the next second down the corridors of the left wing of the mansion.

The three turned to Rogue. Her pale face and wan eyes should have been enough to tell them what they had realistically expected and wholly dreaded since what Jean had picked up telepathically an hour ago. However they urged her to talk as she stared wistfully down the white tilled corridors

She distantly registered the tentative touch of Remy's large, cool palm on her bare shoulder and found it enough to help her make tear rimmed eye contact with him. She managed a half-shrug on the side as she uttered a broken string of faintly whispered words.

"Ah guess we'll just have to wait till she tells us what happened."

. . . . . . .

Daylight broke. Timidly the sun began to hail in the grey skies again that still shook in the aftermath of the storm of the night before. The rays of pale yellows and oranges that dared to show once again seemed almost frightened to do so and the autumn day was a weak one.

It soon became noon, just shy of twelve hours since Logan had returned home with his messy bundle in arm. Neither Ororo nor Hank had resurfaced from the bay of the main medical room since.

What had been edgy apprehension laced tight and thick in the group of residents was now an exhausted worry and sickening fear for the worst.

Rogue lay in a wavering sleep across the plush red couch of the living room, next to the slow dying crimson embers of a fire that had barely made the night. Over her slim physique was a blanket that Remy had draped over her before he left her side and took a seat beside Jean instead just outside the blue door to the room that held the doctor and his patient.

Scott had paced and cursed and whispered to himself for several tedious hours before Jean had pointed him down the corridor and gently chided him to go back to bed. Grudgingly he had.

Logan was silent against the wall across from where Remy and Jean sat. He held a slight scent of dampness and still donned patches of lingering rain in the creases of his unchanged clothes. No one was in the mood to persuade him to freshen up.

Midday began its trek into early afternoon as the hands of the clock sauntered over to five minutes past. Remy slouched down on his black plastic chair in discomfort and understandable impatience.

"Wot be takin' so long, eh? You wanna find out for us Jeannie?"

It was evident in Jean's shadowy green eyes that she did not. She moved to sit up slightly to ease the ache in her back and crossed her arms indefinitely. "Give them time Remy. It's obvious enough that they need it."

Only a slight comfort came to him from the empty promise that Jean would have reacted in some way perhaps if Ororo had come to an end in death overnight. Logan had nothing to say and no movement to make. He kept his head craned down and allowed a short fringe of almost black hair to cover any expression or flicker in his eyes. His lips remained dry and closed.

The seal of the heavy steel door to the room Ororo had disappeared behind twelve hours ago finally opened. The action stabbed a release of tension through the small gathering outside but built up bricks of anxiety as the comfortingly familiar blue face of Hank appeared in the opening. His amazing gold eyes were sombre and uncharacteristically quiet, there were no jokes to be spilled or general good news to be shared, but he did wear a very slight smile and waved the three in. Logan was content to stand his position however, despite the questioning tilt of Jean's head.

"Two's company, three's a nuisance, y' know. I'll catch up with her later."

Remy and Jean could only shrug in their urge to see Ororo and he took off down the corridor to fulfil his promise later.

Hank left them to wonder in and find the bed that their friend occupied on their own, he contenting himself with 'work' instead in the secluded space of his tiny office up the back.

A quiver of weakening sickness ran down the spine of Jean as she spotted the patient sitting solo on a bed fairly near the back itself. Her palms pressed into the side of the mattress with her head low and much of her features hidden in a tumble of tangled, dirty white hair. She sported a thin, cool green gown now, her mauled clothes lying abandoned to the spotless floor under the bed instead. Her so often flourishing spread of dark evenly toned skin was now marked heavily with blotches of unsightly blue as she continued to suffer from a vicious chill. With this was the occasional sign of a bruise or light gash.

Perhaps all she could account for herself now was that she was alive and relatively safe. It was what Hank had tried in vain hope to assure her of over the course of the night when she had be resurrected to her senses again, but she only barely believed it.

Jean was quick on her heal in the next second and the rush of bare feet across the cold lino alerted Ororo to her company. It seemed for the first few seconds as she raised her head that maybe she would never dare to curl her lips into a genuine smile again, but in placing her somewhat drained blue eyes on Jean's eternally relieved green ones she managed with all success to do so very slightly.

"I'm so sorry!"

It was all Jean managed to utter before she wrapped her arms around Ororo so tightly and securely that it hurt slightly across her bruised ribs, although she didn't dare show it as she cradles Jean's face in her shoulder. There was some trail of a weak sob from the redhead but Jean hushed it enough in her throat to stop herself short of breaking down at what would be such a wrong moment.

Remy came up slowly and carefully from behind and offered Ororo a wavering smile with lack of any better vocal response. She only nodded and kept her own smile as she ran her hand up and down Jean's shivering back a few times before she tentatively pried her away, still keeping a hold of her but managing to make eye contact now.

"Don't be."

It was enough to send Jean to the floor with tears again but she kept her legs under her and forced upon her own pale lips some sort of smile of remorse.

"But I am."

"I know."

It didn't take any level of telepathy to be able to tell there was far more to be said, and it also didn't take any psychiatrist to know not to push.

Jean put herself on the bed and slipped her fingers into Ororo's swollen and scarped ones. Very carefully she took her free hand and ran it over the chilled back of the one of Ororo's she held, before moving her slim fingers up to her friend's mane of unkempt hair and delicately fondled it behind her chafed ears.

"How are you?"

The three small words were barely a whisper on the exhale of breath they rode on but they were enough to prod Ororo slightly to tell them what had kept her here for twelve hours now. Slowly her head bobbed up and down before she pursed her lips and lifted her tired eyes once again to the couple with her, a tight, confused smile playing on her cracked lips as she did so.

"I'm pregnant."  
The news simply did not register for the first few minutes, and even as the reality seemed to take hold somewhat Remy and Jean rushed through their minds to think of some way that this could all be a sick joke or even on a stretch just a horrific, evil spirited dream or some sort of illusion at least.

"Y' can't be, y can't tell… dis soon."

It took so much will power to stop Remy from tearing his lips to pieces for what he had just said. Ororo seemed to smile next for his comfort.

"I can, and I am. Hank has his ways of finding out this soon. His tests wouldn't lie."

She said this with so much confidence only because she herself had sat in doubt and disbelief for nine hours before finally out of exhaustion and collapse of will alone she had forced herself to accept this bitter twist of fate.

There was one question that needn't have been asked, by Hank, Jean or Remy, and none of them dared to. The answer was as obvious as the state Ororo was in; she was to keep the baby and any other option out of this would never be spoken of or at all considered if it involved ending the life inside of her when it hadn't even begun.

Remy gave himself up for an embrace into Ororo's scratched and bruised arms and in his powerful, lean grip was where she allowed a spill of angry, bitter, shaken and frightened tears to emerge from her own pupils as they had done for most of the night and morning now.

"Y' know y' aint alone in dis one chere."  
She nodded against his shoulder and he pulled away to sit on the other side of Ororo so she sat in consoling warmth between the two, which slowly faded the blue chills across her bare skin, leaving only the marks of bruising and fading scratches now.

"An' y' know y' gonna be a better mum dan any of dem out der."

She let herself utter a weak, choked laugh. "We'll see about that Remy."

"An' yo' kids a' gonna grow up wit' de best Aunts an' Uncles in New York."

She let herself agree on this one with a small nod and smile.

"And you wont ever be a single mum. Hell I bet even Logan would make a good babysitter."

Again she laughed a little more clearly and easily this time round. Although she wouldn't be fooled at all into thinking this would ever be easy, or how she ever imagined eventually becoming a mum, she would never consider herself to be luckier than to be in this situation with these people.

"I know. Thank you."

. . . . . . .

**_-One Month Later-_**

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Autumn was making no hesitation of becoming winter this year as a particularly cold September began the month with lashings of icy rain and grimy sleet. Today though, on the fourth, it had decided to ease the slightly premature chill somewhat and allowed a cool early-winter sun to hold the grey tinted skies for a few hours of a dull afternoon.

The mansion was quiet and mostly asleep in the late morning that was soon to become this mild afternoon. For a few years now the mansion had seen little action beyond what would be considered 'exciting' in a normal running day – mail from long distant family and friends, birthdays and Christmases being the mainstream of highlights, along of course, with the unexpected pregnancy. 

Logan had kept this as his home for most of these dormant days. A few times now he had taken off in spans as long as several months on trips he never talked about and no one ever asked about. With Ororo pregnant now though, he would be going nowhere for a long time.

Quietly he sauntered his way down the first floor hallway, intending to do no more this morning than eat breakfast and take his Harley on a ride across the drying roads. 

Suddenly from inside the bathroom he now stood just outside of a loud retching noise erupted with great volume, accompanied soon after by the sickly sweet smell of half digested food. It was the third time this morning that he had come across that scent. Rather bravely he decided to knock on the bathroom door this time around, to settle his edgy curiosity.

"'Ro, that you in there?"

Another loud stress of the sound of heaving escaped the bathroom.

"'Ro?"

A southern accent came drifting out from behind the door to answer instead.

"She's fine, just a little mornin' sickness is all."

"In the afternoon?"

"It happens."

Curiosity satisfied he shrugged and walked on by, intending on letting Rogue handle this herself, feeling he for now would just be incompetent and in the way as a man.

There was a small spluttering coughs and a long drawn groan that singled the end of the exhausting emptying of Ororo's stomach before the bathroom door opened and the two women stepped out into the refreshing cool air of the hallway again.

"And I have another eight months of this?"

"Yup."

"You don't suppose it happens quicker with mutant mothers?"

"Nope. But at least the cravens haven't started yet."

Ororo began to feel a spill of delicate green rush across her hot cheeks and nose. Both made haste to run back into the bathroom again thereafter.

. . . . . . .

Remy was Ororo's next hapless victim. He wasn't to know it and it was easy to tell he was naïve to the impending doom as he strolled languidly into the kitchen in search of a simple bacon roll, a tall glass of flavoured water and nothing else. He had fitted into a simple mode today, to relax and speak little but watch T.V much.

"Hey der Stormy."

He stilled himself for a moment as he sensed a slight chill and a subtle growl run through the kitchen as rapidly as it seemed to evaporate again. Respectfully he nodded and corrected himself in smiling and uttering a quick "Ororo."

She stood at the back of the kitchen, her waist leant against the marble cupboard units as she contemplated her mood, which turned soon to be one of self-pity and aching confusion.

Sat in her line of view, just out of reach on the large oak table where they dined together most nights was a plate, and on that plate was a rather soggy and very badly made chicken sandwich with a dash of lettuce and no sparing amount of mayonnaise, and some other ingredients Remy could neither nor wanted to distinguish.

"Wot up?"

He began to forage rather thoroughly in the cupboards for his roll, his bacon and his butter.

"It's chicken."

Briefly he perked his attentive head up to the plate again where the smell of her choice of sauce was becoming blatant in the air. "Yup, ah see dat 'Ro. An wot be wrong wit' your… aw."  
It only reiterated itself in his memory now that she was a strict vegetarian kept that way by the searing guilt of ever eating a murdered creature, no matter how ugly and unfortunate they may be.

"I can't eat that chicken. It never hurt anyone." She actually looked on the verge of tears. Her emotional reaction was beyond the Cajun, who tried and failed rather miserably (soon at his own cost) to reason with her remorse.

"'Roro, it's just a chicken."

She began to whimper. "I know! That's what makes it so _bad!_ But all I seem to be able to _eat_ is this poor _chicken_ with the lettuce and the mayonnaise and the _damn_ chocolate spread—"

"Aw, non, please be kiddin'."

"And some pickles…" She trailed off meekly.

Remy winced and she lowered her head in shame.

"Well it's either that or cereal with coffee."

He shrugged as he forced himself to now ignore the smell of the sandwich and go on hunting for his lunch. "Dat's aint so bad."

"Sorry, cereal _in_ coffee."

"Aw…"

Her eyes fell to hurt again as she adjusted their focus back onto the sandwich and felt her scarred knuckles twitch hungrily with temptation to be over with the ordeal, take the greasy lump and push it to her anticipating jaw.

He thought for a moment as he allowed himself to be distracted from his search to watch her in curiosity instead. His back leant up against the kitchen units, mimicking her own stance as he crossed his arms and tilted his head to his shoulder, allowing his devilish eyes to glint brightly as they scrutinised her carefully.

"How 'bout that tofu stuff y' always keep in de fridge den?"

She began to look very slightly green again across the nose.

"Or not… Okay you eat de chicken an' ah eat de tofu instead of ma bacon. How 'bout that?"

Although the sandwich continued to insist on having her full attention, with something of a grudging pull she placed her steady gaze on Remy instead.

"What were you going to have for lunch?"

Unsure he shrugged again. "Well ah can't find ma roll or any bacon, so ah suppose ah might just go out an' 'ave a McDonalds or somethin'—"

Her face burst into a gleam of delight and her eyes dared to widen as far as the restriction of her lids would allow before she grabbed his arm and began pulling him eagerly out of the kitchen.

"Lets do that, that sounds good."

Needless to say he looked slightly taken aback, his surprise no secrete in the confusion of his gaze.

"But you hate dat place, wit' a passion, always have, wit' all the poor chickens an' cows—"

He lit a flame of raw lustful anger in his friend's azure stare that he couldn't deny didn't scare him more than slightly.

"Stuff the damn farm animals Remy. I'm pregnant and I want to eat a processed cow, okay with you _mon ami?"_

He threw his flat palm up and drew it back and forth in quick succession showing swiftly his utter 'agreement' on the matter. No one in the mansion had dared challenge her mood swings yet and he was not, on any person he cared for deeply's grave, going to be the first one to do so.

She smiled sweetly and thanked him generously before they took off into town in the dull shimmer of the afternoon weather.

. . . . . . .

The place reeked shamelessly with the fresh and old scents of grease piled on fat piled on salt piled on things that should never even be considered for ingredients in a burger. Not a person didn't sit without their fingertips gleaming after dipping into a healthy sized bag of dire looking chips or their lips littered with mounts of runny sauce and a smile with the satisfaction of downing a good meal at its worst.

In very different ways it became a haven for both Remy and Ororo as they ordered their lunches and found a relatively peaceful booth located at a car park view window. As Ororo's teeth for the first time sank into the savoury taste of a freshly burnt cheeseburger her flaring mood swings came to a slow burn and Remy could finally safely unwind his nerves and reward himself for getting through the ordeal with his own bacon roll and lemonade.

She mused tenderly over the burger with her silent thoughts as she ate away at its crispy edges, all the while subconsciously picking at Remy's chips as well.

"Why did I ever become a vegetarian Remy?"

He smiled fondly, watching his chips disappear before he had the chance at them himself. "'Cause y' got more decency an' respect for life dan Missouri Rolf Harris petite."

She nodded in whole agreement. "That would be it then."

They lapsed into an easy silence for a moment with only the familiar sounds of furiously protesting children and harried parents trying in all lost hope to serve their needs without being triumphed over by their infants. Ororo watched, both nervously and with curiosity.

"So how you holdin' up den, one month in?"

She tore her attention away from a lone mother and her toddler in another corner and back to her lunch partner again, only just absorbing what he had asked. Rather weakly but with a genuine hopeful glimmer in her gaze she smiled.

"Good. This was, never how I expected things to be, but… no, I'm good."  
Remy nodded with his own warm smile and affectionate tint in his black eyes. Lightly he touched on Ororo's smooth jaw line, almost with pride in the movement of his fingertips. His eyes lingered on the remaining dashes of purple across her fine cheekbone that indicated the last dying remnants of that horrific bruise, but only for a brief second.

"Course y' are. Ah wouldn't let 'y be anythin' else."

As his fingertips left her cool face carefully, she lowered her eyes and tilted her chin down the slightest fraction, still smiling but in a very broken, half-hearted way.

"The situation comes with its prices."  
Knowing this far better than he wanted to Remy nodded his understanding.

"Yeah, we know. Y' make lil' mini storms every time y' have a nightmare. Been shakin' up de roof a good lil' bit a few times now lately."

With little less appeal towards it Ororo took her fourth bite into her discovery of meat through her badly produced cheeseburger, which was, however bad it seemed, actually almost gourmet in comparison to usual of late slipping standards.

"Sorry."

Remy sat back in his chair, one of the few clean things left in this set-up poising as a restaurant, and waved his hand briefly in dismissal.

"Naw, tis okay, forget 'bout it. If Rogue sleeps through it ah sleep through it, an' she sleeps through most anythin'. Anyway, from you, ah've been on the receivin' end o' much worse dan just a sleepless night."

She lifted her head and smiled at just how true and honest the tail end of his statement was.

"And don't think I wont do worse still if you play up during the cravings. If I want your bacon—"

"Den ma bacon is yours petite, no questions 'bout it."

She nodded decisively. "Good, because there's no argument in it either."

Remy took his chance in their next small silence to down the remainder of his roll as he watched warily the hunger in Ororo's eyes continue to flare even as she viewed with her nervous curiosity the parenting around her.

"So do you come here often, to this McDonalds place?"

She had decided to seek a distraction from the stress and upheaval she was witnessing, and Remy was only too glad to be one.

"No, Rogue does. 'Ow she still got de figure she does is beyond me t'ough."

Ororo laughed lightly. "A women never reveals her secrets Remy."

"Oh ah know. Ah been married t' one long enough to know dat well."

She chided him with a glint of her eye but kept her gentle glimmering smile on her dark lips. The meal was all but done, yet still they lingered in their seats.

"Y' got any names lined up for de bébé?"

Ororo's smile grew and the attentive light in her eyes lifted in a wave of wistful wonderment of the future that the next eight moths would hold. She had her fears, her anxieties and everything else that made her dread what was to come, but she also had her joys to hold onto and the small simple things with the big that would pull her through eventually. Naming her unborn child was just one of a small array of details she so did love pondering over, if nothing else than to ease the overwhelming amount of everything else there was to do.

"Of course I have names. Almost every woman has their names picked out from when they fully understand the concept of having a child."

Remy let himself mimic Ororo's smile as he rested his stubble dashed chin on his coarse hands.

"Uh huh, y' mind sharin'?"

She leant back, turning the select few names in her head and rolling the sounds of them around in her mind.

"I only have three."

"Ah can forgive y' for dat."

"Alright. Well for a boy it's between two, Asya and Zebadic. Asya was meant to be my name if I was to be a boy, and Zebadic was a boy I knew and lost a long time in Cairo, to the police who caught him stealing."

Remy nodded as Ororo remembered before carrying on.

"For a girl I have only one name though – Asher."

Remy raised a brow at this suggestion. "Don' t'ink ah've heard dat one 'afore, not for a girl anyway."

Ororo nodded to be fair in agreement. "It is traditionally a boy's name yes, but I never fancied it as one, although it is the only choice I have for a girl."

Remy could only shrug. "Yo' child 'Ro, aint no one gonna argue 'bout it, or at least ah wont."

"No, you're too afraid."

He shrugged. "Can't admit ah'm not."

She gave his forearm a light, mocking pat of comfort. "You're a wise man Remy."

They rose from their greasy corner, Remy in a dramatised scorn from the insult with a teasing Ororo close at his heal as they made to go to Central Park instead of home for the rest of the mild grey afternoon.

There was no doubt from any of the current occupants, or even Ororo herself, that as long as the friends around her stayed with her and remained as close to rocks as they were now, she would make it through the ill-fated event of one month ago and the next eight months that were still to come.

. . . . . . .

I'm not really one to be too bothered if you don't request this to be continued or not, it will no matter the response.

_-Telaka-_


	2. The Best and the Worst

_A.N_

Ironic that I had twelve reviews for the first chapter in the original copy and only two now, in the improved edit. Ironic, but like I said I'm not too bother about receiving piles of reviews. _Bugs _(talk about loyal reader) and _Angel LeeAnn, _thank you both for very kind words that are appreciated greatly. Now on to the chapter –_smile_–

_Note_: Dialogue in _italics_ means psyche speech.

_-Chapter Two – The Best and the Worst-_

The nights were the worst, far worse than the days. It was the one time when she was left terribly alone and abandoned in the sole company of her taunting memories from one month ago. The night was when she dreamed.

Each dream had one main common denominator – that there was never a face. Perhaps it was meant to be her one saving grace; that as she twisted and drowned in her sweat laced sheets she was not at least forced to endure seeing once again the calm and triumphant look in that man's red-brown eyes when he pinned her hard and tight to the rain soaked ground.

Sadly though, if nothing else, it only drew out longer and harder the dread and the pain of that night. It built on a performance of apprehension and always made her sick in the stomach to the point were she could almost taste the half digested food of her supper on her dry tongue tip.

It always started the same way as well, this relentless repeated nightmare. It started so calmly, so airily and peacefully. It started in the mansion, and ended in the alleyway.

She never saw anybody else there, Logan and Remy and Jean and the others were never there, and she was hardly even aware of their existence, if the truth were to be told.

She was naïve and alone and glad to be that way. She always started in the attic where she had only her plants to talk to, and only her plants did she want to talk to. They would always listen.

But this would only last a few wonderful minutes. The sun would only soak the wooden beams of her floor for a small while, and the sky would only stay an immaculate blue for a brief moment, before the replay began.

Suddenly she would be out on the streets of New York again, on a bitter New York night. There would be no blue, but an ebony overcast, and no clouds but a harsh grey moon, and no clean, dry air but a torrential clammy downpour, almost a flood from the skies that she had to battle through in a desperate search for refuge.

No matter how fast she ran, or how much she had to slow her pace to regain her breath, or how many times she had to stop to gather her scattered senses, or pick herself up from falling down in crevices and potholes, he would always be the same amount of few steps behind her torn and bloody heals.

And no matter how much she willed herself to turn right, into the streetlights of the road, to find perhaps one kind soul who would save her, or even to find a way home, her feet would always steer left, into the dark, damp, damnable alleyway. This was where he would catch up on her, and win over his final upper hand.

Many of the details were spared, but there was always that moment when he would lunge on her as a cheetah would a boar piglet and run his sharp yellow nails down her back. And then he would weaken her knees enough so that she would crash fall, before she would become so terrified that her immense mutant powers were no longer under her control, and the two would be soaked with the madness of the rain that was released in her utter insane terror. And then he would turn her over on her back and throw his fist into the left side of her face so hard that tiny traces of blood spurted from the bruise, until she passed out, only to regain consciousness a few minutes later, when the violation was being committed.

Tonight's nightmare was different. She would find herself awake at this point, or had every other night. She would shoot up in bed, eyes painful with tears and knuckles blue with gripping the sheets. But tonight her subconscious carried on, even as she fought for it not to.

She 'awoke' not to see his face above her though, as she had a month ago, but to find herself laid out in a shallow puddle, on her side with neither the strength nor the will to rise up and continue running again.

He was still there. He had his back to her, his chest forcing it to rise and fall in exaggeration with each greedy breath he took. He was on his knees in the rain, wet enough to strike a fever within himself, but too busy with something that she could not see to care.

The thing Ororo could not see began to cry.

It was a baby, new and helpless and only minutes ago taken from her mother's womb, to be welcomed into the world with cold shaky hands that had no intentions of cradling her and comforting her. It was her baby.

Some surge of strength shot through her so fast and so sudden that it hurt, and it hurt far more still for her to stand, but she noticed nothing when she realised what he had held roughly in his hands.

She could speak no words from her strangled throat but she mouthed a desperate 'no' as she tripped on her bleeding toes and reached forward for her child, her fingertips only just missing the thin wisps of white hair atop the baby's precious dark head, before he stood up and then on Ororo's hand, crushing every bone available to him.

She screamed in silent torment, then watched, as the forces of nature around them became his, draining slowly away from her and into his mindset, where he willed to use them for one sole purpose.

The baby was raised to the black skies of a variation of hell. There was where the blue lightening had taken full control. There was where he offered up the newborn, fresh and screaming, and waited for her end to come to him…

She sat up so fast she almost lost control of her senses again. An unreasonable amount of pain shot through every joint and backbone of her body, and squeezed her ribs so as she uttered an unattractive wheeze for a few minutes.

It passed though, as she waited and sat up pale and damp. Her head eventually cleared and she was able to once again lay clear witness to her surroundings – the attic at night in the aftermath of a storm. Not the attic in the midst of a glorious summer day about to be painted over by a torrential night downpour in the streets of New York.

There was commotion and echoing downstairs, so she was not alone either anymore in the grounds of the mansion. It was probably Logan. It was rare for him to sleep through a storm he knew was caused by her.

She felt not an inch of urge to go down and play out some social skills though. Neither did she want to lie back down and sleep but there wasn't a part of her ready to go down there and account for the storm, or to discuss the nightmares. She knew Logan would not push, but she also knew that just by sitting with him she would end up indulging some detail to him of the angst that had followed her tightly for the past month now.

Tentatively she began to lower her hot sticky back down onto the downy mattress of her bed, and head onto the several pillows she needed if she were to be in any degree of comfort. Her blue eyes continued to pierce unblinking through the murky darkness of the attic.

Only eight more months she had left, she kept telling Rogue, who had taken to counting the very days with her. Eight months on Monday, which was just now at one o'clock in the morning today.

She could hardly feel for the will to bare it even another morning.

. . . . . . .

"Ya promised y' know. The South like it when their folks keep their promises."

She listened to the sweet Mississippi twang through the rising steam of a sugary, perhaps overdosed tea. Not even its subtle soothing scents could numb her from the nagging voice beside her though. Although Rogue did always nag for a valid reason.

"Y' aint been outside this damn place for three days now. Some o' yer own fresh air outta do ya some good."

Another small grunt escaped from behind the waterfall of stringy white hair that was covering the gist of her exhausted washy face.

"An' ah'll just go pick a whole bundle o' stuff from the store that ah like instead if y' don't move your ass down t' the shops with us."

Jean bit hard down on her bottom pale lip. She had been ready for the better part of fifteen minutes now to chide Rogue with scorn, to tell her to leave Ororo be until the afternoon arose, but the Southern was best at convincing the worst to do exactly what they didn't really want to do, at all.

"Baby's gotta sleep somewhere as well."

Ororo warmed to the sliding movement of Jean's flat palm up and down the bony spine of her arched back, but it no more tempted her to move any time soon.

"Baby can sleep with you if you're so keen on it."

Rogue elevated herself onto the kitchen table and took great pleasure in swiping her friend's tea away from her loosely clenched fingers. It managed to raise the ever so joyous mother's head up from under her tangled head of hair.

"Don't you lie to me either an' tell me that damn husband o' mines aint been drivin' you crazy with all the games o' Solitaire he insists on mutterin' curses through, eh? Y' know nowhere in this mansion's safe from that. We know he needs a hobby, but until then, that's what yer gonna have to live with fo' anotha day if ye don't come out with us."

Ororo eyed her with utter contempt and a hideous frown. Rogue shrugged as she walked over to the sink and drained the tea away into the sewers, never to be drunk again.

"That's what they call tough love honey. Now make us two very happy women and go get dressed, huh?"

Jean pulled away loose strands of wispy hair from Ororo's tired face with slim, tentative fingers and a concerned touch. She no less glowered at her that she did the woman who had destroyed her tea though.

"We could already have gotten an hours shopping over with if you'd just have come along earlier. And I swear on Scott's life that if we disturb you tomorrow you can kill him."

A sour temptation for Ororo to smile seeped into her lips there and she lowered her head again in amongst the curtains of hair to hide it away as it emerged meekly on the corners of her mouth. Jean and Rogue no less saw it.

"That's it decided then. Ah'll just go flatten the back o' the car an' make room for the sweet stuff."

The swiftness of Rogue's green healed boots was somewhat amazing and she left the kitchen in no less time than it would have taken her to fly out. Outside the skies seemed to darken to a shady grey, but Jean dared not question it.

"I'm afraid she'll just carry you into the car if you don't come willingly."

"She can try…"

Jean sat carefully down on the chair next to Ororo's. Ororo had given up in putting any energy into her back, and sat with her head cradled in a basket of her own stiff arms.

"Just a couple of hours, that's all I ask. You'll feel better for it, since you've hardly been out in the last fortnight."

Jean gave her a gentle nudge on the shoulder with her own, coaxing her with everything she could, but fearing she was failing rather spectacularly. So she dropped her voice to the lightest and most delicate of whispered tones and tried a different, bolder approach.

"Nothing's going to happen to you out there. I'm not going to leave you… again. Certainly Rogue wont."

The remorse that weaved in and out ever so subtly through every fibre of every spoken word was beyond painful to hear. Ororo's shoulder's tensed in a stabbing shiver and she raised her head up and to the side to lock glazed blue eyes on guilt ridden green ones.

"You think it was your fault?"

It was more a statement of a donning realisation than a simple question, but either way it got a decisive nod from Jean. Ororo's lips parted slowly, almost warily to reply but in the second she took to draw breath to speak the kitchen door burst open wildly on its hinges again.

"You two, move it, now!"

Ororo started and Jean jerked up onto her feet. Rogue had no mercy or patience left to spare now, and on the same token neither Ororo nor Jean had a life to spare if they had to suffer her wrath. So Ororo got up in defeated.

"Give me half an hour to dress?"

The scowl that had torched Rogue's pale face split away with a beaming grin that almost broke her jaw. Ororo wandered passed her in the doorway with a smile of absolute scorn, but with a hint of genuine gratitude in her lowered eyes.

. . . . . . .

Rogue did always nag for a valid reason.

Bells had gone off in all three women's' heads. The dangerously sweet scents, the sickly beautiful sights, the lulling sounds, the shapes, the prices and the possibilities; they had stepped into a baby shop and in doing so tripped the wire that ripped free their maternal instincts.

Men were a rare sight here, prices were at a reasonable rate, each and every single object was made for the eyes to water and not a woman who knew her hormonal side well would be able to walk out of the walls of that store without clutching onto at least one lacy patterned shopping bag as she went.

For the three former X-Women it was likely a backup car would be needed, and then perhaps several rounds made in it.

"Goddess…"

She was hardly even able to roll the simple word off her tongue as a legible whisper. It almost failed to escape her throat, and just barely sat on her lips shakily as she stood at a marble tiled entrance, staring in horrified awe at the fifteen or so hundred feet shopping isles that challenged her ahead.

"Big, aint it. Dragged Remy in here once. Then ah lost him… Had to go to the checkout to collect him."

The other two turned slowly to Rogue who had raised her shameful closed eyes to the ceiling and brought her teeth down hard on her bottom lip.

"You two have no idea."

Jean took a step forward, pulling her astounded and bemused face from Rogue, not daring to say a word that may prompt the whole story being told.

"I take it we're not splitting up, seeing as there's only three of us. Ororo, got a preference on where we start?"

Jean's faced forward for a moment, herself in all honesty quite taken aback by the store. Her words glided quietly past the pregnant woman though, like water over her back. Rogue turned to Jean when a response was clearly not on the table for them. They nodded in almost perfect unison.

"Okay, we start in clothes then. Come on now suga'."

Rogue's words were tender, but mocking in the slightest touch with the gentlest of humour implied. She took one elbow and Jean the other, and Ororo's feet began to trudge forward, her mind still wishing so dearly that she was back at the mansion.

"Ah don't know what you're so quiet and pale about, this is the best part. This is the pre-birth bondin' bit, where, if y' don't count the boys already, y' aint got any nappy changin' or wailin' in the middle of the night to worry 'bout, but y' still have the fun of playin' with the baby's environment. Y' don't just have t' gush over the clothes anymore, y' get to buy 'em, well buy 'em an' put 'em to a good use anyway. An' y' get to decorate the room, and set up the cot, an' buy those shoes they'll grow out of in a few months, but what the hell if they cost forty dollars 'cause there so damn cute anyway. And the socks, aw the socks are the best part. All frilly an' lacy an'—"

"Rogue."

Ororo pulled her elbow away from the passionate Southerner, for her own safety she feared. She smiled though at her passion, a beautiful and rare smile that said she was genuinely amused.

"Thank you, mother. Now would you like to tell us when you became so fluent in the language of pregnancy?"

Jean too watched her with great wonder and interest, and a half teased smile.

It did not dawn on Rogue until now, after she had calmed down from her small speech, to be embarrassed. A sniped of red quickly dashed over her small nose and crawled daringly up the sides of her slim neck. She dared to smile, but it was a sheepish smile accompanied by a sheepish scratch of the back of her neck.

"Ah'm just a baby lovin' kinda person is all."

They turned in synch into the fifth row from the left, the clothes isle.

"Found it."

Rogue stepped away somewhat quickly, all of a sudden finding the large benches of nappies they had fantastically fascinating. She was easily forgotten anyhow as Ororo took stock of her new surroundings.

"I don't know the sex yet."

Her timid eyes had latched onto a display of delicate pink baby grows. "Why are we here if I don't even know what colours to buy yet?"

Jean took her by the elbow again, guiding her deeper down as they were followed at the heal by Rogue.

"That's why you buy whites now, for their first few months and then appropriate styles when they've grown out of their first batch of clothes. Which wont take long. Here, aw look."

Jean's eyes became as lustful and soft as Rogue's had the second they had hit the entrance. With hands that now possessed the utterly gentlest touch they possibly could she unhooked a tiny white t-shirt from its rack. Ororo raised a sceptic brow.

"Did you pick that up because it has weather patterns on it?"

Jean raised her watery gaze up to Ororo, almost begging her with tears, as she stroked the t-shirt marked with a characterised sun on the front and on the sleeves cheery rain clouds, to take it.

"Jean?"

The redhead nodded meekly. Rogue grabbed it off her in haste before Ororo could shelve it again.

"If you think we're leavin' without this, then ah'm gonna make you sit in the car with the window cracked open. Jean, go get a trolley."

Ororo turned her head from woman to woman in quick succession but could not for what little energy and spirit she possessed keep up with either.

"Rogue…"

"Aw, damn, they've got matching socks! With rainbows on 'em an' everything. Would you look at that, 'Ro, would you— stop looking at those twins and come over here."

Ororo felt in a sudden breath-seizing jerk her wrist grabbed by the powerful grip of Rogue's hand, of which she was then led away from the sight her eyes had latched onto without her fully realising.

"Yes, they're gorgeous, but do you know why?"

Ororo turned back to Rogue, suddenly a half smile on her face as she opened her ears to the humour in the Southern's words.

"'Cause they've got matchin' poka-dot socks on, an' the only human beings who could every get away with poka-dots at all were babies."

Ororo bit the corner of her lip, her mouth fighting to rise higher again her stubborn will to remain sullen with her fellow shoppers.

"I could strike you down so fast right now."

Rogue began to rummage through white and black striped socks, although you could easily be forgiven for thinking they were some pointless invention to keep your thumbs warm.

"Y' could, but y' wont 'cause Jean's comin' right now with a hunkin' big trolley an' that's as good a lightening conductor as any."

Ororo rolled her azure vision over to Jean, and the king sized trolley she was pushing with great mirth.

"And you think I would spare any grievance if I struck you both down?"

Rogue decided, after carefully flicking at rapid speed, to un-shelf several pairs of stripped socks, and because she had fallen in love with the twin's footwear, some green and yellow poka-dot sets as well.

"Probably not, but then y'd be stuck pregnant in a house full o' guys. An' Hank's got a lot of conferences lined up fo' the next few months, so don't rely on him to be ya savin' grace."

Ororo sighed in great mental pain, drawing out the deep exhale until she won over another amused laugh from Rogue.

"Go on, pick a pair."

Rogue changed to quite the saleswoman as she ran her palm under the extraordinarily vast selection of socks available before them both. Her own choices had already been dunked into the trolley along with the now infamous weather t-shirt.

"Alright, these are… nice."

Rogue beamed, even at the unsure mother-to-be's scepticism. She took the tiny yellow-toed socks and threw them in with its friends before moving on with Ororo still in wrist to the baby grows.

"Oh ma Gawd, look at these!"

Rogue was gone before she could be stopped, although that was not an idea on anyone's mind. Ororo sagged on her knees and ran her fingers through her loose hair, daring to glance back only briefly at the gushing, weepy Jean.

"Goddess, give me strength…"

. . . . . . .

-Six Hours Later- 

Three men and eight beers sat in the kitchen of the X-Men's mansion. Soccer was on the television in the corner and cards were on the table, in the most literal sense. Smears of peanut butter and scatters of white crumbs suggested they had eaten the bare minimum of a lunch, and the scorches on the cooker suggested they had at least tried to cook something hot.

It wasn't that Remy, Scott and Hank could not look after themselves when the women, and so it dare be said Logan, were out, it was simply that they lost most of the will to bother. If they were content with peanut butter and beer, then they could not see the reason for creating the fuss that was needed to make a more well-rounded lunch for the afternoon.

They may once have been superheroes in the most unpopular frame, but they were still only human at the end of the day.

The two main front doors opened, and as they groaned on their elder hinges they set the trio off in a heartbeat. Scott dunked the empty bottles in the recycling bin and Hank made use of his furry exterior by wiping clean the evidence of sandwiches from the table. Remy killed the soccer images from the television screen and arranged his cards in some fashion so as that perhaps it looked like they were playing poker. They all sat ruffled but 'innocent'.

The girls entered through into their domain not a few seconds later. Originally though the girls consisted of a lone Ororo.

Silence reigned supreme for the first few seconds of her domineering reappearance back home. Silence was all the men could conjure from their voice boxes at first.

Her hair was askew and her cheeks flushed a hot red. Her eyes were glazed and sported a handsome set of dark, blue bags under the bottom lids. They threatened with no good will to turn a shade of milky white, as the skies outside grew grey and murky. She walked with a slight limp of exhaustion as well and possessed at her heaving sides two white clenched fists, and it seemed, although it was hard to spot, as though her bottom lip was quivering. The right corner was swollen slightly.

"I," she spotted a half finished peanut-butter sandwich on the table at Remy's hand and grabbed it for her own, "will be in my room – alone. Brooding. And nesting. Alone."

A rogue wind howled through the kitchen as she turned on her worn heals and left.

Healed feet clattered through the hallway seconds after that, picking up volume until they reached the kitchen and came to a sharp stop. Two sets of amazingly bewildered eyes, and a pair of ruby shades, blinked in terrified silence at Rogue, who in turn blinked bemusedly back.

"Where'd she go?"

A finely filed black claw pointed up to the roof, where sets of storming footsteps could be heard making their way along to the attic staircase. Rogue spat a hasty thanks over her shoulder before she charged off, the men barely catching the sentence, "C'mon 'Ro, the kid didn't _mean_ to throw the bottle at ya!" as she ran.

A third, slightly more timid set of feet rounded their way into the kitchen next. The men dared not to say a word, or to even breathe a heavy breath, lest they suffered someone's wrath. Jean simply smiled though, as she dumped only what was a minor fraction of the shopping bags left in the car boot onto the kitchen table.

"Let us all take a minute here, to prey a thanks that not a useless one of you had to witness the horrors that no person on this Earth, evil or good, should ever have to bear witness to; Rogue and Ororo shopping together."

She took a deep breath, and closed over her eyes as she gathered to her what strength of will and body she could salvage. There was little else left, but enough to aid her in opening her eyes again and catching her husband's sights.

"I will make the herbal tea. You three will unload the car."

She had never in her life moved men so fast without the aid of her mutation.

. . . . . . .

The room had not been used in many years. It was cold and grey, sporting a thin layer of scattered dust along any available surface and silky cobwebs in every high and safe corner. Handsome oak furniture lay dormant under thick creamy sheets and the bed was without a mattress. The shelves were bare, the wardrobe starved and the curtains forever closed so that the room sat in a constant dull darkness.

It had been Piotr Rasputin's room before his untimely death, not more than five years ago now. As with his namesake it was a colossal room, with magnificent floor space and an opulent marble balcony that only added to its grand scale. Although there was only one bed in the room three or four could easily have been fitted there, with a generous amount of room to spare for desks and other such furniture accessories.

Xavier had given him this modest palace for that very reason when he first moved in. It was a room for his art, more than for him. And he had adored that room for that such reason, and although now it was musky and abandoned it stood still in good condition and boasted still its glorious decor and size well.

Ororo sat on the edge of the wooden frame of the bed. She hadn't lifted a hand to the curtains or the light switch and so she sat in the same dull darkness this room had seen for five years now. Her face was grey but her eyes still shone through clear, and she held her gaze onto the empty spaces that possessed the floor around her, wondering just how many beds could actually be fitted in.

Whilst engrossed in her thoughts something rare happened; her lips broke out into a small, genuine smile. She calculated that at least three beds could fit in here, and there could be three bodies living in here comfortably together. In wondering this she got up and began to slowly tread over the floor.

Dust danced at her ankles, sheets flickered in her breeze and the thin, sallow curtains that hid the balcony before her begged her to peel them apart. She tilted her head to them as she approached, her smoky white eyes both curious and cautious.

There was something else in this room beyond the furniture, the abandoned artwork, the air and herself. There was something restless and good-natured and Ororo had always believed in its presence, even if the others were… sceptical.

A few times she had been in here but she had never done any more than stand at the doorway or sit on the bed frame. Everything from the photo frames to the scattered sheets of paper on the floor to the curtains were left untouched and in peace. Now though she was curious.

The worn cracks in the window frame let through a part of the night, as a breeze not conjured by Ororo swept the perimeter of the room. Dust fled and paper scattered to the walls. The curtains rattled impatiently and she felt her wariness go up with her curiosity, her eyes glinting in the shallow spills of moonlight that fought their way through the flapping curtains. Her hand rose to grab the ghostly material, her fingers tight but gentle as she prepared to open up the balcony beyond the thin shield.

The door behind her swung open and she jumped, dropping the curtain and spinning round on a dizzy heel. Fresh light from the hallway flooded her vision and she squinted at the shadow that stood there, apparently looking for her.

"There you are."

It was Jean's voice she listened to on the breeze as it began to die and her voice that calmed her racing heartbeat as she stepped away from the back of the room. She even offered the friend a half smile as she approached her.

"If you're not in the attic and not on the roof you're in here. Dinner's on the table, in case you're hungry. Remy made cheeseburgers. Promised me you'd… appreciate that."

Jean's brow dipped in a curious frown and Ororo nodded as her smile warmed, assuring the redhead that the Cajun's gesture was apt. Thereafter there was a silence between the couple and Jean looked upon Ororo meekly.

"You know Rogue and I were only trying to help today, especially Rogue. She was beside herself with the idea, she just… wanted you to see the good sides to being a mum."

Ororo felt a heated remorse rise through her neck and across her cheeks as she gazed out at corridor and towards the stairs, realising only now how hungry she was, and how blatantly she had acted before. Not everything could be blamed on the mood swings…

"I'm sorry. I'm just… a little taken back by it all sometimes. It was hardly planned, it's not the ideal situation, but I should be thankful for what I have. I'm sorry when I lose sight of that, but it's nothing personal."

Jean smiled, giving the powerfully built mother-to-be a hearty pat on the back.

"I never took it to heart, don't worry, I understand. It doesn't take a telepath to feel your frustration. Just tell Rogue the same thing and it'll be like it never happened. Until 'attempt number two' tomorrow anyway."

On that note she took her hasty leave down the hallway, glancing once back at the horrified pregnant mutant and offering her a wayward smile.

"For Rogue's sake."

Ororo's eyes darkened as her brow dropped in a non-amused frown.

"Who's the pregnant one around here?"

Jean hovered her foot above the first stair and shrugged. "That's anyone's guess."

The frown rose to a confused stare and Ororo watched the enigmatic telepath take her leave to dinner.

. . . . . . .

_Five Months Later_

It was late, perhaps three or four in the morning, although there wasn't a clock or a watch in sight to prove this.

Rogue was restless. Of late this was not an uncommon trait of hers. She was bored and bothered at night and alert and overenthusiastic during the day. To say it was driving Remy crazy was a slight understatement as their marriage and vows were tested every moment of the twenty-four hour day.

She pierced her alert gaze through the night and laid sight on her 'better half'. It seemed she had driven him to exhaustion, as for once during her kicking, tossing and complaining he did not get up with her.

Tonight was one of a few recent nights were if she did not eventually rise from bed she would be driven to do regrettable things, most likely to who lay on her left. She threw the thick sheets that draped her warm body off, allowing a merciful breeze to swim through the cotton of her nightgown as she rose to her feet. She stretched and then eyed the en suite.

The en suite played secrete home to the experiments that would soon hopefully prove her unsure hunch. Rogue, by nature, was a heavy sleeper with a restful mind. So by all rights and laws of nature what was happening to her shouldn't be, unless it had a just cause. She could think of only one of these causes, seeing as she was not suffering from anxiety of anything.

Behind her Remy flinching in his sleep, grunting gracelessly before he settled on his stomach, left cheek buried snugly in the pillow. Like a puppy he was most adorable and preferable when he was asleep. She smiled fondly before turning back to the white en suite door, nerves beginning to punch at her pulse and heart rate. She tried her best to assure herself that the outcome that gnawed at the back of her mind was a highly unlikely one. It was a futile assurance.

Very carefully she wrapped her grip around the brass handle of the door and pulled down, making hardly a noise as the catch released and the hinges bent forward. Remy was silent and content in sleep.

Her keen eyesight was able to guide her on with the flickering of grey moonlight that made its way through the bathroom window alone. She dared not touch a light switch and instead moved with the moon and the fact that she knew the bathroom tile for mint green tile. With little bother she found the mirrored medicine cabinet and opened it as discreetly as she had the door, which she had shut tentatively behind her.

The cabinet was hardly full, but there was enough of her packs of tampons and nail varnish that Remy would not touch even if her life depended on it for her to be able to hide the small cardboard package she had bought the other day at the chemist. The pregnancy test.

As she pulled it out from between the tampons and a bottle of 'wicked metallic kiwi' nail polish she felt a tremor run through her fingers. A smile also itched her lips, but she quickly restrained it and kept her thoughts detached and on the instructions written on the box. Easy as they were she carried them out within five minutes, after the twenty minutes it took her to gather herself and remember then re-read the instructions. Then she propped the little stick on the sink unit and began the last agonising instruction to wait five minutes.

She only had to wait five minutes. The whole mansion only had to be silent and still for five minutes. It was all she needed at four o'clock in the morning, just three hundred small seconds. She got two minutes and fifteen before horror struck.

Terror ran through the skies in the body and spirit of white-hot lightening. It shot through the mansion as a gale of ice, cutting through the warmth of blankets and walls and was powerful enough to stir eyes wide opened.

There was a raw scream that ripped hard through the household. Outside the elements lashed out harder, thunder, lightning, rain and wind all posing their full potential as the lawns outside became drenched, the trees bent and the house threatened with furious vibrations that tore through the ground. Inside faired no better.

Doors opened in a consecutive line down the corridor. First Jean and Scott's bedroom, then Rogue and Remy's, then Logan's.

"Ah got her!"

They simply watched in pale, mortified confusion as he bolted past, his bare feet hammering down on the windswept carpet. Every dark, coarse hair across his body shot back in a horizontal slant, his lips twisted together and his eyelids barely apart as he fought his way onward through the indoor tempest.

Then suddenly the gale changed course and he was being propelled forward violently. A toenail snapped as he dug his feet in and cursed on the icy current. He was at the door to the attic now but not Colossus himself would have been able to open it. So Jean did.

Holding on desperately to the frame of her bedroom door with one white knuckled hand she let the other go and used it to vent her concentration as she focused sharply on the door. Logan turned round briefly as she whispered fear for the worst in his ear, but he simply shook his head.

She felt the door handle give way and let her muscles clench in anticipation and strain. Scott did his best to morph his body into a shield but it was not a task accomplished easily.

Then the winds changed course again. Like tugging on a rope where the person on the other end thought it would be amusing to suddenly let go, Jean suddenly fell back taking her husband and the door with her.

Logan threw himself against the wall. The door by any means did not miss him as the catch tore across his left calf, leaving behind a handsome gap in the skin and releasing a generous spill of blood almost immediately. The winds scattered it across the wall and the carpet, making the mess for Logan.

Little concern was spared for the injury however as in the second it took to made its mess it began to close again. He grunted and then felt himself propelled forward again onto the winding stairs up to Ororo's beloved attic.

Jean began to gather herself up, still half in half out the bedroom with Scott hung over her. He anticipated her next move before she made it. She looked angrily down at the hand that had grabbed her wrist as they both stood four-legged on the carpet.

_"No, Jean!"_

_"But what if he can't reach her? What if he can't get through the storm?"_

_"He's done it before, he can take her now."_

_"And what if he can't get through mentally? I've got to get up there, talk to her, coax her out of whatever mental trap she's caught herself in. Scott I've got to go up there!"_

Rogue and Remy watched from two doors down as the couple fought through their mental confrontation, Jean doing her best to break free from the grip that kept her down but Scott holding his ground with her, just.

None of them ever saw this coming, probably because neither had Ororo herself.

She fought on hard and long against the monster who had her baby held up high to the merciless elements above. No longer hers to control they had become wild and reckless, smashing the natural balance so that there was now only thunder and lightening and rain, no sun, or snow, or gentle breezes. She quickly grew to fear what was once hers as they made her cold and feverish and her world dark and in favour of him.

The child screamed, almost suffocating itself in its first few shaky moments of life. The air was ripe with the tortuous sound and lying only feet away from him Ororo could see that he was growing tired and frustrated with it. It would mean no less to him to kill the newborn than it would to destroy the mother.

He began to call her name, shouting it as if he were calling for her to come to him. She flinched as she backed into the ally wall, sitting herself in a bloody puddle as she asked herself the terrifying question, _"How does he know my name?"_

He wanted her again. She brought an arm up to shield her bruised face, preying that this was just a dream, despite how real the pain was.

Logan found himself in a hurricane as he stumbled into the attic.

She cried as she begged for mercy and rain poured through an open window above her bed, drenching her. As she yelled thunder mirrored her tormented anguish and as she thrashed in the crazy tangle of her bed sheets lightening filled the black skies.

The wind had no direction in the attic. It threw the man desperately trying to reach her from one side to the other, back and forth viciously as he growled and grunted, fighting on as fresh cuts and bruises came and went. He had no backup and preferred it that way. Any more than just him there and when she woke up there could be tragedies that would never have been necessary.

She screamed as he began to turn, his face slowly coming in to the limelight of the hot blue lightening. She would do anything to avoid that face, anything, any act of violence or defence. But as she shut her eyes she continued to see him turn, continued to see him slowly reveal himself.

She thrashed her body, kicked he legs and shielded her face. She fought blindly and hoped that if he dared come near her she would land a lucky strike.

Instead his hands clamped down on her shoulders and he forced her to open her eyes.

"Darlin', wake _up!_ Whatever it is, let it _go!_"

She took in a sudden deep greedy breath and sunk an electrified fist into his jaw. As he toppled away from her she sat up and backed into the headboard of her bed, her eyes wide and her mind blank with only one image burnt in front of her.

It did not take her any more than a few seconds later thought to realise her mistake. It was not near black eyes that looked up pleadingly at her as the man began to pull himself up, but instead weather-beaten blue ones that stuck a familiar look to her.

"Logan!"

She stood up off the bed but could walk herself no further as she watched Logan stand with her, flexing his jaw and smiling wryly as he looked at her.

"Don't worry 'bout it 'Ro. From you ah've taken a lot worse."

He watched her eyes mist over even as the storm in and around the mansion died down.

"You alright darlin'?"

To be brutally honest, she was far from it. She had suddenly become uncharacteristically pale and was drenched in sweat with bedraggled dirty white hair clinging to her tight face from the subconscious struggle. She was drained clean of most energy, both physical and mental.

But it was none of that that made her go light headed before she fainted. It was the searing pain in her stomach that made her collapse into Logan's arms in a heap, he catching her just before she smashed her face in against the hard wooden floor, or landed atop her ever-growing bump.

She was left with the burning notion in her failing consciousness as arms wrapped around her frantically that she may just indeed have succeeded this time in killing her unborn child.

Rogue watched as the party left down the stairs for the garage, her face pale and her tongue silent, Remy gone from her side in an instant. Even though she had been deprived of those five measly minutes she had needed, she was blessed now with invisibility as she disappeared unnoticed back in to the bathroom. She switched on the light this time and grabbed the test from the side of the sink. She hadn't time to absorb its readings before the door was opened behind her and she hastily threw it in the bin.

"Y' comin'?"

She nodded to her deeply worried looking husband, grabbing a change of clothes with him before they left for the garage together. She said nothing and kept her main priority her friend, the news she had just learnt coming a shadowed second.


	3. Playing Dad

_A.N_

All rights to be mad and murderous towards me and my lateness with this chapter are granted. But just remember if you kill me then you'll never get chapter four, as apposed to getting it six months later…

Anyway, I've ironed out my 'writing style' so as of half way through this chapter things read a little easier. I think I'll make this a sole project as well until it's finished to help speed things up. I'll see what happens during the holidays.

_-Chapter Three – Playing Dad-_

"They're taking too long. Scott, why are they taking so long?"

For the sixteenth minute in a row Jean paced back and forth before her ashen faced husband, who right now looked very little like the audacious, unmovable rock leader of the X-Men that he had been in his peak days, and more like a sick and pale friend burdened with a weighty worry. His head a pounding mess and his arms riddled with tired muscles, he looked up strenuously at his beloved wife before lifting a heavy arm and taking her tense wrist in a gentle but demanding grasp. She looked down at him with pleading, pain-filled, watery green eyes. With his own stony expression though she sat.

His ruby-quartz gaze flickered momentarily through the stuffy, over crowded and under funded waiting room of the St. Michael's hospital just off Queen Street. They hadn't a choice with their hospitals; the nearest one besides here was on the other side of a heavily trafficked town, despite the late hour. The X-Men also liked to be discreet, still, despite the general acceptance of mutants in society today, and so any other mode of transport that wasn't a standard road vehicle, despite how fast the Blackbird could move, was out of the question. St. Michael's, because of this and being only twenty minutes from the mansion, was where they had ended up.

Scott's gaze, glancing over broken legs and flying vomit, eventually landed on Rogue who sat just across from him on a tattered, plastic-bound chair, her knees to her still chest as she hugged herself absent-mindedly. Her eyes told him she was somewhere else, despite the circumstance.

A gentle nudge prodded her side. Her husband leant over her ear and whispered tenderly in her ear.

"Chere? … Rogue, you wit' us here tonight?"

He seemed to frighten the little colour that there was left in her cheeks out of her ghostly complexion. Every tense muscle in her body seized as she spun her head round quickly, locking glazed green eyes onto Remy's overcast crimson glare.

"What?"

His smile trembled as he offered her it, although it was hardly even there at all. It was enough nonetheless to sooth her as her shoulders slouched and she faced forward towards the white tiled floor again.

"Sorry…"

She wanted to tell him so much. She fantasised about being back at the mansion, everything perfect and quiet, and jumping on top of him as she waved the test in front of his bedazzled eyes, only seconds later to be taken up by his powerful but tender grip until they had woken everyone else up and shared the utter joy of the moment of truth.

But she couldn't bear it, couldn't say it as she watched the swelling worry in his eyes for his dear old friend, and not when she still wasn't entirely sure herself.

"I'm just worried, a bit spaced out… is all."

Logan was at her side, standing as he leaned silently against a cheery yellow wall, just a pallid backdrop to him. With his arms crossed and his body unshaken, his gaze hidden under the brim of a hat, it was impossible as it almost always was to read his expression and generalise any thoughts.

"Aint we all," were all the roughly spoken but gently expressed words he said to them as he contemplated in private, knowing Jean would not dare pry.

Before him she looked very nearly ready to rise on her pacing feet again. Her fingers played furiously with each other, twisting and twitching in nervous noughts. She bit furiously down on her bottom lip, pealing away dried skin and her foot tapped in an uneven rhythm against the tiled floor. Logan eventually spoken up again in that same strangely soothing tone.

"Have just a little more faith in 'Ro, would ya Jeannie. You're makin' _me_ edgy."

The words rolled over her, foreign in her distracted mind despite how he even tried to smile as he said them. She was making herself distraught, unable to stop conjuring the worst conclusions to mind. Eventually she turned to Scott again and he could see what was coming. He quickly slipped his hand into hers before she began to speak.

"Scott…" she faltered on the tongue then sighed and carried on as a sharp shiver ran down her cold spine, "what if she… she lost— Scott what if she's lost the baby and had a miscarriage?"

The group's faces contorted with pain, their stomachs twisting and hearts leaping as Jean forced them to ponder over what could very easily be the inevitable. Logan was the only one who did not move, only tilted his head downward a little more. Rogue and Remy looked at the couple across from them and Scott's hand squeezed his wife's slim fingers together gently. Logan then shrugged.

"Guess we'll just have t' wait an' see."

And no one said anything after that.

………………

They were made to wait for half an hour. It felt like an eternity and a day. Finally though, after those nerve tearing thirty minutes were over, a doctor came into view from a set of swinging blue doors and headed towards them. Her face told them to ease off thinking about the worst as she placed a comforting smile on her full red lips and scanned the contents of her clipboard quickly before scanning her hazel eyes over each of them in turn.

"Can I ask who the father is?" Ms Munroe never said."

Jean opened her mouth to correct the uninformed doctor but Logan quickly stepped in front for her. The doctor smiled again.

"Right, Mr Munroe, follow me. And don't worry, you still have a very pregnant wife."

Four sets of shoulders slumped in relief as Logan went off. They quickly exchanged intrigued looks as he disappeared through the swinging doors, aware of their glances nonetheless.

"You think 'Ro's nourrisson could call him a pere?"

Rogue looked at him silently, Jean and Scott stumped, the idea truthfully never occurring to them over these past six months, despite how much they had teasingly nagged the two about their increasingly close relationship in the past. They had never been able to drag it out beyond an insanely deep friendship and so they had eventually given up.

Now the thought of Logan as acting father seemed so perfect that it drowned their hearts in swelling sweetness.

Shrugging, Remy came out with the definitive line that blared out all their parallel thoughts.

"They be close enough for him to play a good pere to de babe, an' ah don' see why not."

………………

Ororo was awake and sitting up on the hospital bed when Logan walked in with the doctor. However, she was in a world of her own. Her eyes dispatched from the present, she gazed on with glazed azure irises and silent pupils. Her hands sat limp on her knees, and she took no heed of the waves of goose pimples than ran up and down her bare arms. Her hair was still bedraggled and grey and her back sagged slightly, ridding her of her usual structured composure. She would have looked in shock, except for her expression was too lax to truly appear so. Instead she simply looked worn, and somewhere in her blank eyes was a lingering trace of guilt.

Logan went to her side and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. It took a light squeeze for her to finally heed his presence though, and she looked slowly to her side where he stood with a lope-sided smile.

"Ah'm standin' in as dad right now, if it's alright with you."

She concealed a laugh and he smiled again with relief now.

"Mr Munroe?"

The two obediently focused on the petite-framed doctor to hear her long anticipated conclusion on tonight's unexpected horror.

"Your wife and baby are both fine now, I'm glad to tell you that. But I'll say in all honesty that it was a very close call tonight. The fever you ran Ms Munroe, if it had gone on for any much longer, could in all likelihood have led to a miscarriage and put your own life in serous danger as well. So with that in mind I urge you to stay as calm and relaxed as possible, for the remainder of your term at least, lest you want to end up back here, which no one ever really does." The doctor then gave her a gentle smile. "But apart from that, you are all free to go."

Relief of Ororo's own rushed in to sweep her still heart as she ran a clammy hand through her tangled hair. Turning back to Logan she managed a weak, genuine smile and a deep sigh. He gave the back of her free hand a sympathetic pat.

"Only another three months t' go darlin'."

Her smile became a slight grimace. "Three months _and_ a delivery Logan."

He challenged her with more of a grin. "Three months, a delivery an' a baby at the end of it all."

She felt a warmth spread over her shivering bare skin as he said it. It was the same warmth she always felt when she was able to look past the slight hell that this pregnancy had been and realise what she would be getting out of it at the end. She would soon have family again, another Munroe at her side. Sometimes she sometimes scowled herself for. She had family, she always did with the X-Men. But then to have her own son or daughter, that was different, in it's way…

It was in again imagining this that she added subconsciously to the muse. What she imagined now for the first time was Logan at her side when she did give birth, someone there with her so that she was not alone, someone who was just as keen to act out the fatherly role as he was to act the rock she so often needed right now.

As she left the hospital that early morning to go back to the mansion, and then on Logan's strict and direct orders straight to bed, she slept peacefully that night for the first time in nearly six months, a small smile gracing the corners of her lips as she blissfully dreamt the rest of the night away.

………………

It was a day later, almost. Five o'clock in the morning to be precise. Very unlikely that anyone would be awake whatever hour it was anyway on this dark February dawn, not even Logan and least of all Remy. No, he was a log beside Rogue, a very content, lightly snoring log.

She rolled her youthful green eyes as she rose from the warm bed, tenderly removing the bed sheets from over her. It was very unlikely again though that Remy would wake, not unless another nightmare storm hit the mansion, with its source derived from the attic. Even when she stubbed her bare big toe on the en suite door, the stubbing itself causing no pain to her steel-like skin but the door promptly slamming shut, did her dear husband arouse from his sweet, warm sleep. She just managed to refrain from swearing liberally and quickly opened the door again, scowling at its white innocence as she shut it over.

This had to be the last test. She was being obsessive over it now, she knew. She could forgive herself though. Just imagining being told the pregnancy was nothing more than a false alarm, especially after she celebrated with Remy and the others over it, broke her heart and soul.

She should have consulted Hank over it, she knew that too. But his recent phenomenal breakthroughs in medical science, revealing stunning research on such topics as cancer, AIDs and the legacy virus that he was only just now being allowed to share with the rest of the wary world, meant quite understandably he was hardly ever at the mansion anymore. He even had his own flat now, a sign of how much the X-Men had moved on from their glory fighting days.

So Rogue had been left on her own with this one and preyed that the tests and her woman's intuition would be enough to produce the correct conclusion in the end.

The third test came back identically to the other two.

Bursting from the bathroom into the bedroom and throwing herself head on into the bed beside her husband all in a matter of a fleeting few second, it was little wonder Remy didn't know what exactly had hit him at quarter past five in the morning.

His gut reaction, when he realised it was only Rogue, was to seize back the cosy duvet lost to him when she ripped it from his vulnerable, early-morning body and wrap himself tight again, shielding himself from the madwoman crawling over his torso. He groaned and buried his face deep into a pillow, ignoring the laughter that hailed from above, beaconing him to rise at this unreasonable hour.

"Remy! Remy, get up ya big fool! Ya big lazy swamp-rat fool! Get _up_, ya gonna be a _pere_!"  
The words missed home at first. He simply saw Rogue's beautiful wide grin glowing beside him as he threw his gaze out from the pillow, her eyes laced with overwhelmed tears not yet shed and her entire body trembling.

"Y' hear me? You gonna be a dad, we gonna be parents. We're gonna have a kid!"

"You—we havin' a baby?" 

Chocked up almost to the brim in a mind-blowing truth, Rogue could barely speak, and only just summoned the wits to nod with her splitting grin held thoroughly in place.

It only took a moment later for the bedroom door to swing open with a flustered looking Logan standing tense at the doorway.

"What the hell is goin' on in here? You've just about woken everyone up in the mansion, as well as our neighbours two blocks down probably!"

His voice was gruff with sleep, his eyes worried as they glanced up to the ceiling, but nothing could deny him the smallest twitches at the corners of his pale lips as he looked the flustered couple up and down, their faces pale from shock.

"Well it's about time."

The two nodded simultaneously, hardly making a sound but finding one another to grasp onto as they trembled slightly from the dawning reality. Logan gave them one nod of congrats.

"I'll leave you two to it then, considering it's about half five in the morning and I'm not facing Ororo with ye's if you've managed to wake her up, which ah don't doubt you have."

The door was shut and Rogue collapsed onto her back on the bed, eye wide and round as she fixed blankly onto the ceiling. Remy soon filled her vision once again though as he hovered over her, fingertips tracing lightly over her flat stomach.

"So, a lil' fille or garson to call our own then, eh. Newest in the LeBeau line."

Rogue smiled quietly, imagining it.

"It'll be a little monster whatever it is, with all that LeBeau blood swimin' 'bout his system."

Remy flopped down beside his wife, sighing contently, just as happy to imagine with her.

"Truer words never spoken chere. At least he'll be our lil' monster."

"He?"

Remy shrugged. "A man can hope, non?"

She didn't argue.

This was why Remy LeBeau had battled all those years ever at the side of Rogue, why he had came through all the obstacles and hurdles with her. Why he had always come back after the hardship and knock backs, why he had put his heart and soul into getting their relationship to work. Why he had never backed down and stayed stubborn at her side forevermore. It had all come to a head now, at this moment; finally his life had meaning again.

………………

Quite naturally, because it would be wrong if they didn't, celebrations were in order and fulfilled that very night. After phone calls and psychic links galore, and after receiving everything from holograms to beams from space, and once Rogue and Remy were happy that they had informed all whom they wanted to, the six resident X-Men settled into the warmest and most favourite of the mansion's lounges for a chat and a relax.

Rogue and Ororo seized a corner for themselves, curled up in two healthily stuffed armchairs of rich velvet pelt that were near enough to the marble fireplace so as that they soaked up the radiating warmth, but didn't swelter until they dehydrated. The topic of chat was the fortunes and pitfalls of what would be their forthcoming motherhoods. The others, needless to say, were happy to leave them be.

Lounging on a long, plush red sofa Scott, Jean and Remy, along with Logan sitting on an armchair across from them, grouped together themselves. Wrapped loosely in Scott's arms, Jean lay sleeping. The devoted husband stroked through her blazing red hair affectionately, sparing her a soft smile before his attention, with Logan's, latched onto the brand new father-to-be.

"Two pregnant women living together in de one mansion…" Remy mused, only half-jokingly, "You think de place is big enough?"

Scott's frank answer came back a quiet, "No."

"T'ink der be enough chicken stocked in de basement?"

Logan chucked an eyebrow. "With all due respect to your spouse Cajun, as long as Ororo struts through these walls, the chicken's going nowhere but on _her_ plate."

There was a glint in Remy's dark eyes, and a flicker at the corners of his mouth. "Y' know Rogue c'n be pretty damn fast, when she wants to be."

Despite the wicked opportunity for jokes aplenty, Scott let that one lie, tactfully changing the subject instead.

"You must be thrilled then, to have your own baby on the way, finally." He smiled, but Remy wasn't blind to the small trace of regret hidden under his warm expression.

"Oh ah don' know Cyk," he started, tentatively attempting some light humour on the matter, preying Rogue was wholly engrossed in whatever Ororo was saying to accompany her dramatic arm gestures, "Yeah ah'm thrilled an' all, but how much does de pere really _do_ durin' de nine months? Play punch bag? Scapegoat?"

"Hold back their hair over the toilet, let them choose what time you both get up at in the morning, cross boarders for the food they need; yeah, stuff like that."

Remy swallowed quietly, but in obvious fear. "Choose what time in de mornin'?"

Logan unleashed a wolfish grin before getting up in his usual unexplained manner and patting the paling father lightly on his slumped shoulder.

"Good luck, that's all ah can offer to ya Cajun. Got business, I'll be back later, don't have any kids while ah'm gone."

He aimed his last comment at the huddled women in the corner, making sure both heard and both nodded in acknowledgment.

"Typical man, runnin' off when it all gets too much."

Ororo smiled gently, brushing off the distraction Logan had caused, blinking away the glaze in her eyes. "I don't know Rogue. He's been pretty good to me over these past six months."

Her hand lingered subconsciously over the crown of her ever-expanding bump, smoothing over the white, stretched maternity wear she had so… eagerly went shopping for with Rogue and Jean.

"Yeah, he'd make a good dad ah suppose. He seemed keen enough t' pose for you and your kid at the hospital anyway."

There was a sneaky glint in Rogue's shadowed green gaze as she tentatively said it, one accompanied by a small, accruing twitch in the corners of her mouth, which she fought with every facial muscle to keep at bay. In turn Ororo only approved herself a wistful smile, as if forgetting she was in the presence of company, allowing herself to be carried away a little by private thoughts and muses. Rogue never asked though and so she never told.

"So how long have you known?"

Rogue grinned at the sharp shift in topic in the conversation. Underestimating Ororo and her will to ever keep minds off herself and Logan was a silly thing to do, she should have known by now.

"What figures you t' think ah've known for longer than ah've said."

Ororo simply offered her a raised eyebrow. "Well?"

"Alright – a week. Ah took a couple o' tests last week then one on Wednesday then one last night an' then the last one this mornin'."

Ororo submitted an impressed nod. "You are thorough."

Rogue shrugged. "Wouldn't wanna be celebratin' a false victory, would ah?"

"But you are sure now?"

"Oh yeah, _hell_ yeah. Five outta five's gotta be a pretty good sign, right?"

Ororo split a smile and nodded. "As good as the signs get I suppose."

She watched the clock slip to quarter past two then took a casual glance over at the remaining three others, listening to Jean snore lightly and Remy and Scott teeter around the beginnings of some mundane macho argument.

"One week pregnant then; how do you feel?"

Rogue chewed on her bottom lip thoughtfully then let out a small shrug. "Ah don't know really. Doesn't feel like a week t' be honest; feels like it's only been a day, only since ah informed Remy of the good fortune we spent many a sleepless nights tryin' t' create."

Ororo let that one go with a small grin.

"How did you feel one week in?"

Ororo was quiet for a minute as Rogue asked, and instant regret flooded in to the Southern woman's conscience.

"Well, one week in I was still waiting for the brunt of the swelling in my face and thighs to go down, and Hank was still struggling to get me out of the attic for his check ups. Generally I wasn't feeling very good."

Fighting down a churning a wave of guilt in her newly burdened stomach, Rogue locked eyes meekly with the majestic mutant across from her as she pushed back a heard of her own memories from that past shaky time.

"Aw 'Ro, ah'm sorry, ah really am— ah never meant– ah mean it was just a passing question—"

Ororo put up a slender hand to dismiss Rogue's squirming apology, smiling and shaking her head as she did so.

"Please Rogue, you're just making me feel bad for making you feel bad. This is your night, your joy – you have every right to say and ask whatever you want."

A sheepish grin crept back onto her rosy face, but at the same time, without ever expressing it in her eyes, she wondered. She wondered that if Ororo could put up a hand and dismiss six months ago with nothing more than a smile and the shake of her head, then why would her mouth still not utter, not even to Logan or Jean, what exactly happened on that night? Why was she still not prepared to share and unload the burden that was keeping such horrific memories locked up?

As ever Rogue could only let it go, never to posses the boldness in front of Ororo that could allow her to pry further than where the pregnant mutant was freely prepared to go to.

The clock suddenly chimed its half-past jingle.

"Half two – geeze, we pregnant women can talk."

Ororo etched on another smile to her slightly dry lips, taking it for granted that Rogue was as ready for bed as she was. They promptly stretched and rose in near perfect unison, watched by Remy and Scott as they pulled themselves free from their muffled argument, which appeared to have no clear winner.

Remy obediently clung to Rogue's side, his hand quickly slipping into hers, his eyes affectionately locked onto her flat stomach. She gave him wide smile and a playful pat on the cheek and on that they disappeared to their bedroom.

Ororo turned to Scott before she made her leave.

"That would be you two down here for the night then."

Scott nodded, stroking his fingers tentatively through her lush hair again. "Well you know as well as I do how … sensitive … she can be if you wake her before her due hour."

Ororo nodded back knowingly. "Goodnight Scott."

"You too Ororo."

For a moment she lingered in the doorway, half in but hands still clung to the inside doorframe.

"Scott."

He looked up. "Hmm?"

"It will happen, eventually."

Without a word he looked down again and Ororo took leave for her bed.

………………

_Three Weeks Later_

Remy was looking a little desperately at Ororo as she stood outside the main upstairs bathroom with him. It was only natural, she supposed, for his face to be awash with an eerie, green-tinted paleness and his eyes to be set in a glazed wonder, but then it was only natural the procedures Rogue was carrying out down the pan.

"Tis only been three weeks Stormy, how c'n she be doin' all dis pregnancy business in de mornings already?"

A loud retching noise followed up the question, the third to arouse within a matter of minutes. Ororo managed to ignore it this time.

"Pregnant and you still insist on dubbing me with that name."

She encouraged not even a sly side smile from the Cajun, and so taking sympathy on his fraught emotions she took on a patient yet repetitive sounding tone and proceeded to explain to him, again.

"As I have already said Remy, things are different for each individual woman throughout each individual pregnancy. Some of us start habits like these only weeks into the term, yet others it's not for months, if at all. In my case the morning sickness has no meaning because it is occurs in the afternoon; with Rogue it seems morning will do just fine for her.

"Cravings, mood swings, fatigue; they all vary from one body to another. It's just part and parcel of being a woman and bearing a child."

Explanation finished, Remy succeeded to look none the wiser father, and slightly horrified at the thought-come-reality of having to go through nine months of an unpredictable pregnancy with an unpredictable woman. Ororo surprisingly sympathised with him.

Rogue quickly interrupted their parallel trails of thought as she emerged pale and yet fresh faced from the bathroom, eyes laden down with bags but her mouth arched up in an eager smile as she rubbed her hands hungrily together.

Breakfast then?"

Ororo laughed, shaking her head at Remy's further set bafflement and Rogue's utter success in winding him up.

"I'll join you both later if that's alright."

With a nimble side step she slipped behind Rogue and into the bathroom, leaving the explaining and the confusion to the very couple themselves.

As Ororo padded across the immaculate black and white tiles she dropped the limited amount of clothes she had on and left them to lie behind her. Slowly opening the glazed shower door she spun the silver painted taps and set the temperature to where she always had it. Then she left the water to run and took a couple of steps back.

There in front of her the full-length, gold trimmed wall mirror gleamed in the reflective light of the spotlights above, bouncing Ororo's image back at her, showing off to her her almost fully grown bump.

She took a slim hand to it, running it over the crown of the swell and across her belly button, then underneath it and along the stretched sides and then finally over to where the baby's feet lay, where often she would be kept in silent wonderment as she watched it kick to its heart's content.

It went without saying that it was quite a change from her once toned and slim waistline, where tight skirts, lacy thongs and figure hugging jeans had never been a problem before, but were now the devil's very own spawn reincarnated (a claim made in one of her more infamous mood swings).

She smiled happily. It was only two months now until she was due to deliver. Today was the second of March and her exact due date was the thirty-first of May. The thought was forever sending quiet chills down her arched back.

However, any doubts, any hesitations she might have had before, when memories still lingered constantly and her emotions were still strung tight, were now gone, and no more were her nightmares or regrets.

If nothing more, she was determined above all else to never let what happened three weeks ago happen again, not when she only had two months left to go and she was so near. She could not risk coming so close again to destroying the life inside of her, not for selfish fear, needless fear she felt she should add. Not for anything.

Despite these worries Ororo showered quite contently on that cool, calm spring morning, moving on half an hour later from the steamy bathroom to join Rogue and Remy in the smoky kitchen to fulfil her tasteless breakfast cravings once again.

Rogue had gotten off easy with her pallet, although she was still only in the early stages yet. However, all was balanced out by a frightening swell in her appetite, which was always made most apparent at breakfast, or any time before noon.

A plate of toast, a plate of bacon, a plate of sausages and two or three glasses of orange juice were usually what sufficed till lunch, and still Remy's toes curled at the ever frustrating mystery of how Rogue never tipped the scales any more than what was fashionable for pregnant woman.

For now the Cajun's guard seemed to be down, probably due to the giddying heights of his in-coming fatherhood. He managed only just to spot and acknowledge Ororo as she drifted in quietly, eyes already locked fiercely onto the coffee maker and cupboards in quick unison.

"Bonjour Stormy—"

Without missing a beat she raised a warning finger.

"Ca va?"

Pulling out a box of musely and pouring herself exactly half a bowl, Ororo then moved onto the coffee machine. "Fine Remy, thank you. And I see you're _still_ soaring from three weeks ago, mon ami."

She gestured to his own plate of toast, sitting a couple of slices down now. Carefully his dark eyes ran the length of the table that it took to reach Rogue's own plate of toast, now sitting two slices up.

"Three weeks in an' he still can't seem t' get over the news yet. Ah just hope the 'pleasant shock' doesn't turn into full blown denial, y' know." Gently Rogue poked her husband in the side. "Y' hear that Remy LeBeau?"

He nodded obediently, hugging his plate to himself as he answered in timid silence. To ask who the boss was in their relationship was just to prove anyone's lack of observation skills.

Ororo's coffee steamed into readiness and she began to add lashing of sugar and herbs to the pot, claiming it as her own now. Then taking it out of the machine Ororo gave Remy a quick backward glance and began to pour the contents hungrily over her cereal.

It seemed Remy would never quite get used to his old friend's odd cravings, as he turned away in plain distaste from her coffee-cereal combo. Smiling nonetheless, Ororo sat purposely down across from Remy and began to eat, one big mouthful at a time. He took to distracting himself by looking wistfully out the kitchen door.

"So where be Scott and Jeannie?"

Rogue shrugged. "Still in their bed is my guess."

Ororo sighed and wolfed down another spoonful of breakfast.

………………

"Scott how long have we been trying?"

Laying her head on his bare chest, Jean closed her eyes as Scott laboured a heavy sigh into his lungs. He looked down upon her as a burst of young sunrays spilt through the bedroom window and fell upon her head of lushes red hair.

"About three years, I think."

It was her turn to sigh. "And still nothing."

He pursed his lips in silent frustration. "No."

In a way, the former leader was almost envious of Remy, even of Ororo; he had been able to give his wife just about the one thing they couldn't just go out and fight for; she had inadvertently found herself burdened with the one thing worth more than anything they ever battled for. But Scott, after three long years, three hard, frustrating years, hadn't. That pained him far more than anything else had or could.

"How much longer do you think we should keep trying for?"

He was quiet for a long minute, until he felt her grip tighten on the sheets.

"I don't know."

This was far from the answer she was looking for, but she said nothing. Her understanding and patience far outstretched her tempter.

"We'll keep trying Jean, until we get our baby, don't worry."

A short silence lingered between them as they considered the looming impossibility of that.

"No matter how long it takes, no matter whether it's ours or whether we have adopt, we will have a baby Jean."

He spoke with such a new and fresh confidence then that Jean could not help but embrace a flicker of hope and a weak smile.

"Thank you."

……………… 

The day was glorious, blessed with a sun rarely seen on the best of summer days, never mind in the middle of a temperamental spring. The streaky, burnt orange rays from above made their way into almost every alleyway and back-street, every crevice and brick hole, across every high-rise building and pathway, warming the acres of New York below and setting moods within the general public light.

On such days, Logan of the retired X-Men would usually be found silently admiring the natural beauty in its purity as gratefully as Ororo herself would. Usually he could be found in amongst the small forest of trees buried into the mansion's stretching grounds, dwelling in the solitude of cool shade, or even out in the back with the others, watching casually as they duelled competitively at the poolside.

He would not usually be found in a cold, leaky bar alongside Main Street sitting at an old oak wood counter, moodily talking to the barman behind in a hushed and indifferent tone. He tended to do that more on bitter winter nights, to follow the clique.

But whatever aura it was that this place set off on first impressions, which made most turn away without so much as a flicker of interest at its murky windows, it made for an apt example of that other old clique: to never judge a book by its cover.

To the non-observer this place was dark, lonely and depressing, the very last spot in New York that any respectable soul would waste their precious hours of leisure time in. It was simply for the grungy and the cheep, its flickering lime-green neon sign and fraying chequered curtains best left ignored than investigated. Besides, most would argue to any curious partner, there was a perfectly well reputed bar not two blocks down the road from it.

But of course, Logan knew better about the bar.

The barman who owned the place was one of the most upbeat, optimistic characters around, at least that Logan knew of, and next to Jubilee. He was an oxymoron to the appearance of his very own business, a glowing pink figure that stood out amongst broken ceiling lights and beer stains with a smile that could shatter glass. He was quite simply known as Frank, and his bar as Frank's Bar, and to his regulars he was a legend, if not a modest one.

Logan admired him almost purely for his unspoilt spirit and ability to make light of any situation and mood a person might happen to drag into his bar at whatever time of the 24-hour day. All claws would be flying, and not seconds after Logan would be chugging beers before he could even scratch out a splinter of the bar. A man who could do that, in Logan's humble opinion, deserved a medal.

But Logan was not here for a laugh and a couple of beers tonight, not even to calm any tempers or to offer a passing hello. Today he had arrived for information, for the other, perhaps most vital, thing Logan knew about Frank and his bar, was that behind the beaming, ever-smiling face of Frank was a man who knew a lot about a lot, and who owned a business of gossip, as well as of beers and peanuts. And that information was free on the market for anyone he saw fit to have it.

"Ah, Mr Logan, what can I serve you, the usual?"

The rouged and slightly hunched figure of a mutant shook his shaggy-haired head as he entered the bar amidst a sea of cigarette smoke and took his usual barstool directly before the barman. "No Frank, not today thanks. Ah just need an update."

Frank took an idle dirty glass from beside the sink behind him and began to clean it slowly with an old, beaten cloth.

"An update on your friend's attacker?"

Logan nodded silently.

Frank put the glass down carefully and picked up another, looking casually around his bar as he did so. The place was near deserted save from a couple of hunched, mumbling men in one grey corner and a lone woman and her purse in another. He turned back to Logan and leaned heavily on the bar.

"'Fraid I don't have much more for you Logan. If y' want my opinion instead, then I think he's cleared town. Smartest move he'd have made since he started this fiasco too. There aint been any more killings of his style in about a month."

Frank looked around again before dropping his tone slightly to continue.

"Y' know, if you could just get your friend to talk about what happened, well… She's the only other know survivor, 'part from Michelle, that we know of." A smattering of wistfulness entered the balding man's dull-brown gaze. "You know she must have some fight in her to have gotten away from him alive. Michelle only managed to scram 'cause her mate Paul was passin' the block and he managed to scare him off. Came damn near close to catchin' him and all."

Logan growled. Frank took the guttural sound with a slow shift in weight in his feet. The growls were never directed at him, he knew. The growls were biting back at six-month-old memories, the ones Frank kept well away from the imagination. Logan looked down at the bar as he quietened himself to a sniff.

"She wont talk, ah told you that already. And ah got no intentions of making her, no one does. We got a description from her friend, that's all I need, that an' a tip-off on his whereabouts."

Frank shrugged, throwing the battered cloth over his stout shoulder. "Well, like I said, there's been nothing for a month, so…"

And that was all that Logan would get, as he knew it was the God-honest truth.

"Sure you wont have a beer?"

Logan rose from the stool, shaking his head as he left Frank a tip regardless of the fruitless venture. "No thanks Frank, I gotta get goin'. Been away from the mansion for close to three weeks now, should be getting back."

Frank smiled his lopsided smile. "You really care about her, don't you?"

Logan stopped for a moment, foot in mid-stride. It was the first time Frank had dared to make a comment beyond the line of business. It was hard to get mad though.

"Yeah, yeah I do," Logan answered, hoping he meant it in the die-hard-friend sense of the word 'care'.

"It's hard, I'd guess, when you love someone that much, but can't get any closer. Must be frustratin', must pain the heart."

Logan lowered his glazed blue eyes and dropped his gruff voice to a mumbled. "It aint like that. 'Ro's just always been there for me, so it's my turn to be there for her, just like ah'd be for any of 'em."

"By standing in as dad?"

Logan reached the door and put a warm palm to the pane of glass there. "See you round Frank."

"You too Logan."

And still the friendly, chubby, optimistic barman smiled as his favourite customer left, knowing a lot more about Logan's feelings than he himself knew, or at least would ever admit.


	4. Asher N'Dare Munroe

_A.N_

Oh dear. Man am I ever sorry to whatever loyal readers are left of this story (and I doubt there'll be many _looks guiltily over at date of last update, December some time…)_

Truly I am sorry, but if I could just tell you everything that has gone on over this past half a year, then I'd take up more room than this here chapter would itself. For the most part, like many of my Scottish brethren, I've been swamped with the shadow of exams, as well as the pressure to get into college and to obtain a job that will pay. Whereas I have achieved at least these three tasks, a mountain of problems still lies with them, but not enough to keep me from writing anymore.

So finally I bring you chapter four of this revamp, and hope that someone out there might read it with a little bit of forgiveness in there scowling soul. And faith in the promise that chapter five wont take another six months to upload.

_-Chapter Four – Asher N'Dare Munroe-_

There was a heated silence in the kitchen as the two strong willed women battled in eye contact together over a cold and half-eaten breakfast. Stubborn green met intense blue as red and white hair draped over their quivering, narrow eyelids respectfully.

"So you're telling me, Miss Munroe, that after eight months of being pregnant, you haven't had one ultra scan, not one. Not only that, but after the hospital rings _strongly_ suggesting you do have one, no later than today, you kindly refuse their offer of skipping you to the front of the queue and proceed to have breakfast instead as if nothing's been said."

Slowly and quietly a chair scraped across the lino floor of the kitchen and Ororo rose to her intimidating full height, casting a dooming grey shadow over the red head sitting opposite her.

"Hank has made absolutely sure that everything is alright. I need nothing more than that."

"Hank," Jean replied, just as quietly coming to her feet with the painful scrap of the chair to accompany her rise, "hasn't seen you in three months. Two months ago, very nearly to the day, you had that… incident, and yet have refused any further assistance from the hospital since. So the very least you owe them, and yourself, and your baby of all else, is a scan. The very least you owe us for peace of mind is a scan. So you come with me today or I call Logan back home from wherever the hell he is and make _him_ take you instead."

A glowing smugness began to cross the bold red lips of Jean's jaw as she triumphantly crossed her arms, happy with the knowledge that if all else failed, that threat wouldn't.

"Take your pick, Windrider."

For one long, painful minute they stood across the table and started hard to their full potential. Then Jean slowly moved to put her fingers to her temples.

"Alright," Ororo panicked with a burning frown at the same time, "I'll go. Just give me an hour."

"I booked the appointment for ten."

It was half past nine and a fifteen-minute trip to the hospital via car.

With Jean following victoriously at her heel, Ororo stormed out like the namesake she'd been given, on swollen ankles and cramped knees.

Finally left alone in the kitchen, Rogue and Remy sat in stone cold silence together, quivering and blessing their lives for another day.

The waiting room in the maternity wing was not a happy place, and not just because Ororo had arrived. The majority of the weary waiters were heavily pregnant mothers-to-be, accompanied already with one or two sugar-charged children, and several of those sat without partners. However, all went well unnoticed by Ororo, still buried in her sulking mood.

Spotting a convenient set of spare seats in a relatively undisturbed corner of the waiting room, Ororo sat down with a loud and exaggerated sigh as Jean confirmed their arrival at the department's reception desk. A few seconds later, the temperamental goddess was joined by her ever-faithful redhead friend.

"Care to tell me what's the matter then, 'Ro, or are you just going to sulk on that seat for the next half an hour?"

Tentatively Ororo raised her head to show Jean a sad and tired expression, and so Jean retracted some of her teasing humour for a more sympathetic look as she tucked back a loose scrap of hair caught in amongst Ororo's long white lashes. Silently she shrugged as way of finally answering.

"Now don't be like that," she sounded in the mannerisms of a pre-school teacher. Ororo cracked a shy smile, her mood shifting from stormy to nervous as quickly as she could make the clouds roll by, if she felt the need.

"Why don't you just ask my subconscious? She knows more about it than I do probably."

"You're asking me to trample on my long reigning ethics and dive psychically head first into your ever-so-private thoughts and feelings?"

"With my permission, yes."

There was a small pause, and then Jean said,_ "Well according to the back of your mind, you're scared."_

It took a moment for Ororo to reply.

"… _Yes."_

_"Scared like in the way I was last year, for example, when I had those chest pains."_

_"Uh hu. And you wouldn't go to the doctor's because you were afraid he'd come out with the worst. (I think I know where this is going.)"_

_"(Yes, you do.) And it turned out to be nothing more than stress in the end, and so all that painful worrying was for nothing."_

_"… Yes."_

Jean smiled as her point came rolling into play.

"There's hardly a mother alive who wouldn't instinctively known if something was wrong the moment that it was, and who wouldn't shoot to the doctor's the second they realised it. If there was anything to be worried about, you would really know. I know you would know. We all would."

Ororo tipped a cautious smile onto her lips. "So, you would have known then."

Jean nodded, smiling herself. "I would have known."

"Then why didn't you say?"

Jean made what dangerously resembled a strangling motion with her hands, edging them towards Ororo's throat, just when something caught the corner of the pregnant one's eye. She grabbed in from the little oak table at her side and waved it in front of the gritted-teeth Jean, all of a sudden excited with the notion that had just passed through her head.

"I haven't got a crib yet."

Jean pulled her hands back slowly and eyed the magazine carefully as Ororo flaunted it under her nose.

"I thought we agreed it would be bad luck to get a crib before the baby arrived."

Ororo dropped the magazine onto her lap and began to flick the pages with great intent. "We also agreed that buying _anything_ would be bad luck before the baby arrived, but I don't remember you trying to convince Rogue of that for too long before she was let lose in the baby stores."

With a sigh Jean submitted.

Half an hour later, as was promised, a nurse with a great portion of wild grey curls poked her head into the crowd in the waiting room and called out with a tireless chime, "Miss Munroe?"

Miss Munroe spent a moment debating whether to step up or begin to silently slip away from the mournful waiting room, until she felt an insistent hand wrap round her wrist.

"No. You'll be fine. Now come and we'll follow the nice nurse through."

A scowl grazed across Ororo's brow, but both knew it wouldn't work as Jean helped her up onto her swelling ankles and dragged her up to the nurse, giving her a smile because she knew for now Ororo wouldn't.

"That's us."

"Great, this way."

With Ororo slouching behind at her heel the walk to the examination room played out like a doomed march towards a battle already lost. Ororo kept her scowl in favour of any other expression and Jean held on firmly to her wrist, gripping her in fear of losing her to an escapologist vanishing trick. She began to wonder if bringing Remy might have been a wise idea…

The examination room managed to start bringing things around though, as both women became captivated by its decorations. A message board held homage to an array of photos and cards as countless newborn babies with their tearful, madly grinning mothers started back at the couple, framed by messages of 'Thank You' and 'All The Best'. Posters lay draped all over the other walls of professionally photographed babies sat next to long, fancy poems, celebrating this and that to do with new life and children and gifts from above. The room even smelled of that sweet new baby smell, and the light above accented the small private space with a peaceful yellow glow.

Jean wondered away in thought as she began to read one of the poetic posters, and the nurse took Ororo from there.

When next the redhead turned round she was already laid out on the bed in the middle of the room with her bump layered in thick gel ready for scanning. She jumped up excitedly as she beheld the sight and dashed to Ororo's side, watching and waiting with over-brimming excitement as the nurse switched on the monitoring screen. She stood scanned for a few seconds before she stopped, a smile creeping onto her aging face.

"There." She pointed to the black screen. Ororo and Jean started on, blinking with confusion.

"Just here, you can see the white outline. The head, and the body, and even the heart, just there."

This time Ororo took Jean's hand, as she was the first to jump with a bubbling excitement that cracked over her face in the form of a slow spreading, tearful smile.

"Jean…"

The nodded, her own smile splitting across her face as she came to make out the baby with Ororo.

"That's your baby Ororo, _your_ baby! Oh Ororo…" And then she was lost in tears and speechless joy.

An amazing relief swept across Ororo's face all of a sudden. Everything that had led up to this, all the heartache and depression, the horrors and trials and tribulations, where all suddenly forgotten as she lay staring at the screen before her, Jean firmly at her side, both finally seeing that it was all going to be worth it.

The nurse faced the two women again. "Well as far as I can see Miss Munroe, your baby is perfectly fine and healthy and growing well, despite the delayed check." A light-hearted chide made note in her voice, but no lecture followed it.

"Now would you like to know the sex of the baby?"

Jean looked up. "You can tell?"

The nurse smiled her wrinkled smile again. "Just about, although it's not a one hundred percent certainty. But I'm pretty sure from this picture I know."

Ororo shook her head, interrupting where Jean wanted to go. "No I don't want to know, thank you. I'll wait."

Dejection crossed into Jean's face. "Aw 'Ro…"

"No, Jean."

She smiled at her the redhead attempted a most pitiful, pleading look. "Jean, who's baby is it?"

The nurse laughed and smiled, having one last thorough look before shutting down the equipment. "Well I think we're done here. Would you like a picture of the scan?"

To this Ororo eagerly complied. Just as quickly she remembered the one answer she did want about the baby.

"What about a due date?"

The nurse crossed the room to the filing cabinet, sieving through the middle drawer until she pulled out a thin folder, which Ororo knew should actually have been bulging with paperwork, if she had shown up for any of her appointments…

"Date of pregnancy was the twenty ninth of August right?"

Ororo nodded solemnly.

"Well I would say any time between the thirty first of May and the second of June. Exactly a month from now."

Ororo lay on the bed for a minute, musing over the date that signified the complete changing of her life, again, before she was handed a small piece of paper from the nurse that she took and poured over keenly and slightly tearfully with Jean.

A few moments later she herself was deemed well enough to rise from the table, and she did so thanking and praising the nurse many times over before taking leave through the room's single door.

Then as they left through the hospital's labyrinth of corridors, she began to muse silently and privately once again. Musing over the changing of her life, again…

Remy, Logan and Scott found themselves all staring rather blankly down at what they could only describe to be a photograph of a dark, cloudy night. Rogue and Henry in contrast beamed over it with overwhelming joy and pride. Remy looked at his wife, more than a little confused.

"Dat's not 'Ro's petite one in der, is it?"

It was all she could do to sigh impatiently and roll her eyes in an exaggerated manner as Ororo laughed from her corner of the kitchen with Jean, where they all stood, watching the procession at total ease with her new found peace of mind.

"_Look_, oh thickest husband of mines, it's not that hard to see."

She drew one finely polished green fingernail along a dark set of smudges somewhere about the middle of the picture.

"Now that there's its blessed lil' heart. An' just above that's the head…"

She went on with a new, ever growing smile to trace out a pair of amazingly small arms and legs and then the general outline of the little grey, eight-month-gone baby. The three men nodded along with her as she revealed the mystery of the photo to them, too afraid to be the first to stand up and admit she'd lost them all at the heart. Henry looked on over her shoulder impressed.

"You know your stuff Rogue."

She smiled and shrugged at the compliment. "Guess ah've just got an eye for it."

Her eyes fell back onto Remy as he began to argue with the other two when they lost the outline completely.

As he violently pointed over and over again at one corner of the smudge, Logan countered back that it was no head he saw, but a foot. From Scott there was an angry protest and support for Remy of, "That _not_ the head, that the _foot_ Logan!" To which a low growl rumbled through the kitchen, and Scott and Remy both suddenly lost their argument.

Rogue sighed, smiling to herself once again. Yep, maybe one day.

Two Weeks Later 

It was on May the eighteenth, two weeks before Ororo was due her baby, that the heavily pregnant mutant felt something greatly wrong begin to happen. She was awoken at three o'clock in the morning by an instinctive nagging at the back of her suddenly frantic mind, which soon grew into a very real pain.

Of course it was not the first time over these past eight and a half months that she had woken up in the early hours of the morning for no real reason at all, save for maybe that she was hungry or thirty, or that the baby was playing games with her bladder, but this time it was different…

This time she had gone into labour.

Outside the navy blue springtime skies tore alive with a blaze of thunderbolts, white-hot gashes of pain that seared the peaceful night one after another as they hailed down in their droves.

Ororo fell back onto her bed, her head crashing into a mountain of pillows as an awful lurching pain wracked her lower half. Her mind, which had been so calm and peaceful over the last fortnight, was suddenly racing as it began to pound heavily with the struggle to make sense of it all. How could this be? She was not due now, no, not for another two weeks was she due. The thirty-first, not tonight…

A low, distressed moan uttered out shakily from her throat as she felt another wrenching pull.

It was all happening too fast, far too fast. She hadn't felt any smaller contractions, not even had she felt her waters breaking, although now she realised there was a pool of liquid soaking the blanket around her thighs….

Where was the hospital, and the midwives, and all the doctors that should have been swarming around her, catering to her every needs—

Suddenly she could hear Logan fighting his way up the stairwell towards the attic and through its doorway, his own expression wild and pale with an onslaught of painful worry as he appeared at the other end of the room. He was begging for mercy from anyone who would listen. She couldn't lose it now, not when they were so close, her and the baby. If she lost it now…

But he soon found that barging forcefully through the wooden door was not necessary, as this time there was no fevered indoor storm to greet him. No winds, no lightning, no hassle; just a highly stressed and very confused mother-very-soon-to-be lying in the middle of the room in her bed amidst a flurry of blankets and sweat.

He was at her side in a flash and dropped to his knees at her head just as she spotted his much welcomed presence.

"Ororo darlin'? What is it, what's wrong?"

She strained to lift her head again and looked at him almost as if believing this all to be a dream. "Logan… the baby's coming."

It took him a few seconds to realise the fact of her quiet words before she uttered a more urgent painful moan and made an instinctive grab for the fellow mutant's nearest hand.

"Logan!"

His eyes widened, and not least in part due to the new swell of pain in his hand. Then he kicked himself into much needed action.

"Okay, okay, 'Ro, you just wait here, ah'll go get Hank."

Carefully he peeled off Ororo's stubborn and frighteningly strong grip from his poor unsuspecting hand before he started off again in a mad rush back down the stairs.

At the landing he was confronted by Scott. He didn't even have to ask as Logan shoved him the news in a blur of words, finishing off by asking where Hank was.

"At the Unive—"

"Well call him, get him down here now!"

Scott knew to hesitate would to be gambling with his life as he scattered off immediately down the long hallway in search of the nearest phone, which happened to be in his and Jean's room. However he didn't get that far before he was stopped by his neighbours and his wife, all standing gathered outside his bedroom.

"Ororo's gone into labour, I'm calling Hank."

Jean frowned, her common sense stunted by the hour of the morning. "But she's not due for another two weeks yet, she can't be."

Scott pushed gently past the three into his room. "You wanna tell Ororo that?"

Jean hardly even waited for the news to click in before she bolted off to the attic, Rogue starting behind immediately at her heels. Remy quickly stopped her however, much to her frowning anger.

"Don' wanna crowd the women now."

Slowly Rogue nodded and reasoned with his logic, but trotted over to the bottom of the attic stairwell nonetheless with husband in tow to wait there anxiously instead. Both guessed they might not be standing there for very long.

Another painful and uncomfortable moan filled the airy attic room as Ororo felt another sudden forceful lurch from below. Jean, who had reached her side faster than Logan had been able to, held onto her hand tightly, stroking her forehead with the other.

"It's okay Ororo, Scott's phoning up Henry right now, he'll be here soon."

On cue Scott walked through the door, phone in hand and eyes dismayed.

"No he wont, he's stuck in traffic. Some drunk crashed his car with an eighteen wheeler at a roundabout a couple miles along from the University; turned out there was also a baseball game going on and the whole road's been blocked up with the crowd traffic since. I've still got him on the phone though."

Jean and Ororo struggled to hear a faint 'hello from the other end of the line, almost sounding meek with apology.

From behind Scott Logan came storming in. "Give me the damn phone. Hank! Get yer blue furry ass down here now!"

"Ah Logan, so you're there too."

"Hank!"

Both Jean and Ororo winced as Logan found himself snapping conversation down the phone line. Hank took it al in his stride.

"Logan calm down, please. You'll upset Ororo."

Logan growled deeply, but lowered his voice and his temper for the sake of the poor woman in labour. "When'll you be able to get here?"

There was a short pause before an answer. "Impossible to say, the traffic reports are sketchy still, I think there's some sort of spillage coming from the lorry—"

"Hank!"

"Logan."

He looked worrying over at Ororo, who looked back in tearful strain.

"Okay, just tell us what to do then."

He could almost hear Henry smile.

"Right, well how long as she been in labour for?"

Logan turned back to Ororo. "'Ro, darlin', when'd you go into labour?"

Scott was now supporting her to sit up as Jean busily arranged the pillows behind her in some sort of reasonably comfortable manner to sit up against.

"I don't know, I just woke up and—Argh!"

She fell back into Scott's strong hold, howling now. When next Henry spoke to Logan he sounded a little more urgent.

"Okay, let me think."

There was a short pause. Logan began to frown in more worry.

"Hank?"

"You know this is a lot harder to do over the phone."

"Hank for God's sake she's in labour!" Stop with the jokes!"

"Alright, okay I'm sorry. It sounds like she's near to delivering, so she's ready to start pushing. Get someone to bring up warm towels to wrap the baby in when she comes."

"She?" Logan rushed a look over at Ororo who had clearly not heard him as she whimpered some frightened words to Jean.

"Don't tell Ororo."

Logan nodded, and he found he couldn't stop the fleeting smile that graced his thin lips for all of a few seconds. Then Hank heard some bawling on Logan's behalf followed by a faint Southern accented reply.

"The towels are on their way, now what?"

"Now you get her to start pushing."

"Cyke, here," Logan handed him back the phone and took Scott's place beside Ororo, ready to take orders. Jean stayed kneeling beside her at the other side of the bed, trying to talk and reassure Ororo through the pain. They nodded silently to each other just as another white lightning bolt cracked the sky, illuminating every tense corner of the room and every uneasy face that watched on.

"Okay darlin', Henry says you're gonna to have t' start pushin' now."

Ororo looked up at Logan suddenly as if he were crazy.

"Logan I can't have been in labour more than an hour! I can't—_Argh!_"

Jean gritted her teeth as Ororo squeezed her hand, nearly crushing the entire bone structure of it in her terrifying grip.

"Ororo, you really have to start pushing now," she winced, joining in with Logan's persuasion, "It doesn't matter how long you've been in labour. If the baby's ready to come then it's ready to come."

Ororo moaned, her face betraying that she was already beginning to tire with the pain and the shock. With a little whine though she nods and accepts their request.

Then, just as the three geared themselves up for Ororo's first big push, the attic door burst open once again and the other husband and wife duo of the mansion tumbled in, their arms drowned in a mountain of steaming warm towels. They received a scowl from Logan and a small friendly smile from Jean, but nothing from Ororo as she collapsed onto the bed and began to roar out more pain. She began to push without them.

Scott frantically stood filling in Henry with the process as it happened, watching with great discomfort on his face as all of Ororo's rich tanned colour seemed to drained away into a kind of ashen grey.

"Hank says one of you have to stand ready with the towels, lifting the bed sheets over Ororo's knees."

Both Remy and Logan found themselves looking towards each other in pale reluctance. Logan was more than ready to talk Ororo though the entire process, and take as many bruises on the hand as was necessary, but going down below…

Rogue rolled her eyes and grabbed some of her towels.

"Go stand there with Scott you wimp."

He quickly did so with little protest and Rogue dropped to her own knees at the bottom of the bed, tossing the bed sheets over Ororo's stomach.

Again, this time on Jean's command, Ororo pushed and again the night sky outside was bombarded with thunder and lightning the likes of which Westchester had probably never seen, even after all the years that Ororo had lived there. A heavy downpour battered at the glass ceiling of the attic, looking like it could cave the roof in at any moment along with the monstrous winds that threatened even the roots of the oldest oaks on the mansion's grounds.

All that the five observers could do was have faith in Ororo that she had enough control not to send them and the mansion to the other side of New York.

Suddenly though, amidst the chaos of the elements, and the frantic thoughts of the onlookers, Rogue cried out, "I see a head!"

Ororo's own head fell back into Logan's arms, exhausted, as the revelation was announced.

"No darlin', c'mon now, you gotta keep goin'. Just a few more pushes an' it'll be it all over, okay?"

Slowly Logan felt the weight on his arms lifted away as Ororo dragged herself back up, reassured by the promised that in just a few minute this hell could all be over, and by the large hand that sat on her back to help her stay up.

As Ororo pushed, and Logan kept his arm firmly across her back, and Jean curled her toes from the pain that seared through her hand but loyally stayed at the bedside, one final triumphant blaze of lightning stuck the sky in a glorious divine white, and then was followed by the first tender cries of the mansion's newest resident.

"It's a girl 'Ro, you gotta girl!" came the cried of an ecstatic Rogue from the end of the bed, who as gently as she good followed Scott's instructions from Hank in catching the baby and wrapping it up in her warm towels not seconds after it had come into the world.

Logan carefully lay Ororo back down on the bed amidst an askewer array of pillows and blankets, and Rogue tentatively came over beside them, cradling a squirming, tiny crying bundle in her folded arms.

"Here she is little one, you're very own new mummy."

With tears of her own Rogue handed the precious newborn to an overwhelmed, tearful Ororo and then stood back into Remy's arms, who had come around behind her. It wasn't difficult to guess they were musing about their own child on the way. Rogue was already sporting her three-month-bump, and with pride.

For now though, the attention with babies was firmly focused on Ororo as she sat and cradled her new daughter for the first time, choking back the occasional tear and sniff.

Small, thin wisps of soft white hair sat atop a tiny dark head still a little red from the strain of birth. Her face was scrunched up as she cried the last of her first cries before settling down into her mother's warm and protecting hold, arms waving about before Ororo began to stroke the back of one of her little hands.

Scott hung up the phone from the back of the crowd, Jean still kneeling at Ororo's head, gushing with tears at the sight as well. He came and stood above her, his hand resting on her head of blazing red hair.

Logan kissed Ororo's hot forehead, stroking her damp white hair softly as he looked down at the baby with a strange kind of affection rarely ever to be seen in his grizzled blue eyes.

"Worth every damn minute, wasn't she?"

She simply nodded, unable to speak, beside herself and dumbfounded with a volley of powerful emotions as the mother/daughter bond began to seep through her veins.

Remy lent forward. "That would be lil' Asher you're holdin' there then."

Slowly, she then smiled, swallowing back some of her tears to speak. "Yes it would be. My Asher."

And suddenly nothing else before this mattered. He who attacked her was forgotten, and the nightmares and torture all gone because she had just received the most amazing reward for a lifetime of struggle, a reward even for struggles that had been fought and won before these past eight and a half months. Suddenly it just didn't matter any more.

"My little Asher N'Dare Munroe."

Henry arrived two hours later. By this time only Logan remained with Ororo, the others gone to give her some room and some peace. They were all up in the kitchen though, too rallied with adrenalin and emotion to even try and get back to sleep. Rogue was promptly fighting her way through the fridge.

Ororo was asleep when he quietly crept into the attic. Logan had the baby securely sat in his arms, fresh towels now wrapped around her tiny, vulnerable body.

He nodded to Henry as he walked in then immediately looked back down at the newborn, as if afraid she would run away if he didn't watch her constantly. Henry joined him at the bedside on a wicker chair, where a row of three had been set up for the others to sit on and pour over the baby for an hour or so before they left Ororo, Logan and Asher alone together.

Henry's catlike face split into a beaming smile from ear to ear as he laid sight for the first time on the tiny bundle of new life sleeping in Logan's arms.

"I'll take it everything went okay then?"

Logan smiled slightly. "Yeah, seems to have. Ororo's got herself a girl all fit and healthy with a set of lungs perfect for all that baby screamin' business."

Henry extended his own hands out and with slight reluctance Logan handed her over. It took the geniuses doctor only a few minutes to confirm Logan was right about her health, and then he sat and cooed over her.

"She's absolutely beautiful. White hair I see. No doubt blue eyes when she opens them. What's her name?"

She made a sort of content hiccupping noise amidst their conversation and Logan laughed quietly.

"Asher N'Dare, but Ororo just calls her Asher."

Carefully Henry handed the baby back to Logan and then moved over to the sleeping Ororo and as gently as he could gave her a quick check over too. She barely stirred.

"Well both mother and daughter seem perfectly fine, despite the rushed delivery. I only wish I'd been here."

"Well Asher here wasn't waitin' for anyone, not even her mother."

Henry continued to smile at the new sleeping mother and baby duo. Then he looked at the time, half past five. Considering he didn't live in the mansion anymore he thought maybe it would be best if he got back to his own home, see if perhaps the University was missing him, or more to the truth wanted him to cover yet again for the medic professor who had been bedridden with the mumps for the past two weeks now.

"Well I'll be off Logan; any sign of trouble and call me on my cell immediately. Let Ororo know I dropped by and tell her she has a most beautiful and wonderful new daughter, although I'm sure she already knows that."

"Sure you don't wanna stick around Doc. 'Ro'll be livid when she finds out she missed you because she slept through your visit."

Henry laughed quietly. No, I don't want to crowd Ororo. I'll be coming back to check up on things as soon as I can this evening I would think anyway." A small glimmer of pride seeped into the caring yellow gaze of the kindly mutant. "So goodbye for now, and God bless the little one."

Logan thanked him several times over and nodded as he left back through the wooden attic door. Almost immediately his full attention swung back to Asher.

The little baby still hadn't opened her eyes yet, her tiny new face remaining scrunched up as she squirmed about in her peaceful sleep and resettled in Logan's arms.

He silently hoped she would have Ororo's eyes, and not his... He imagined a pair of blue eyes the likes of which had never been seen before, where there wasn't another set in the world that could stand up to the intense beauty they radiated amidst her lovely face. He imagined her at high school, her blazing white hair leaving not one head unturned, and not one boy's tongue lolling. And her amazing blue eyes, leaving hearts pounding, only later to be broken in their droves. He smiled and felt the pride leak out from his heart as if he himself was her new father.

She made a soft gurgling noise then a little hiccup.

"As noisy as your mum eh? Wonder how much ye'll turn out t' be like her? You're already quite forward anyway."

Logan smiled again as he watched her yawn the tiniest of yawns and then wave her arms about, as if looking for something to grip onto. He gave her a grizzled finger and she blindly latched on.

It wasn't long before his chatting to the baby and his soft laughter stirred Ororo from her brief sleep. She rolled quietly onto her side and felt a small smile curl onto her dry lips.

"I see you're getting quite well acquainted with each other."

Logan jumped a little, not noticing Ororo was awake. He felt the back of him mind scowled him for losing his guard, although in fairness none of the former X-Men were expecting to be jumped by any of there former foes for the meantime.

"Mornin' 'Ro."

She continued to smile quietly. "What time is it?"

Logan thought. "Must be nearly quarter to six."

Carefully she raised her weary body, stiff now from the earlier strain and then the short sleep. The mountain of pillows still behind her was gratefully received as she rested against them. With all the tender care of a real father Logan handed back Ororo's baby to her, which she took with a growing smile.

She stroked her daughter's face with one long finger, rocking her gently as she carried on her blissful sleep.

"She certainly was worth 'every damn minute' Logan: The new silver lining in my cloud, in my life. I can't imagine the idea of ever giving her up anymore, not nine months ago and not now."

Logan moved closer to Ororo. "Well there aint anyone who's gonna take her away from you, not while ah'm around."

Ororo felt herself subconsciously bring her baby daughter closer to her chest at the thought of someone ever trying to lay claim to her crept into her mind.

Logan quickly steered the topic of conversation away from the notion.

"Just think, six months from now Rogue's own little one'll be joining us too. Kina scary to imagine it actually; another LeBeau out to terrorise the neighbourhood. Ororo?"

Ororo didn't answer however; she was far lost in thought. Lost in the idea of if the father did come back, tried to steel away her daughter, or worse…

"Ororo, darlin'?" As quickly as Logan had lost her to the daydream, his worried voice cut through her utterly silent angst. Her blue gaze, which had gone misty in her lost thoughts, focused slowly back on the man beside her, and suddenly she came to realise that she had started shaking, quite badly, without realising before.

"You alright, you want me to call Hank?"

Quickly and almost furiously she shook her head. "No, I'm fine, just tired, I think."

Logan quipped an eyebrow. "You think?"

Again she did not respond. But he did see a draining fatigue slip into her pale gaze, and he believed now would be the best time to follow the lead of the others.

"Well I'll leave you two alone then. Any problems and you holler straight away, okay?"

She nodded distantly.

Slightly confused and more than worried he bid her a goodbye and left.

What if?


	5. The Longer You Wait

_A.N_

Okay, so it's been two months since I updated, but that's quick for me! And this chapter is over 8000 words, which is long! So I think I did good.

I'm also starting college tomorrow. I was meant to start yesterday but that's a fairly long and boring story, so I wont bother sharing it. Anyway, that kinda means updates may take a tad bit longer than this one did, but I will try, I will, to make the updates relatively frequent and flowing. (No promises.)

Oh, and does anyone feel up to chatting to me about what House of M's all about? I haven't caught anything of it, so I'd love to know what all the fuss is over about this, and just what it's all about basically….

Anyway, enjoy the chapter

_----------------------_

_-Chapter Five – The Longer You Wait- _

Three Months Later 

It was the height of summer, a month late in the middle of August, and almost a whole year since the attack on Ororo. Now she was sitting at the mansion's much loved poolside on a fluorescent orange beach towel with Rogue at her side and her three-month-old daughter carefully balanced between her bare feet in front of her. Asher had managed to find great amusement in splashing her tiny hands into the puddles Remy kept making as he executed a steady stream of ungraceful dive-bombs into the pool, every so often being chased by Scott as he did so.

The new arrival had grown considerably in the three short months since her abrupt entrance into the world, now donning an ever-thickening head of pure white hair and blinking a pair of astonishing blue eyes, brighter even than her mother's. She boasted a wardrobe brimming with the most adorable of little baby girl outfits that money could buy and her collection of baby booties, sun hats, bibs and toys made even the men gush.

Little Asher was simply and undeniably quite adorable, and spoilt.

She watched with fascination as Remy ran around the stony edge of the poolside and with one swift and devious move lifted Jean clean off her bathing spot on a deck chair and threw her into the pool. Jean filled the summer air with shriek cries of protest, until the water abruptly silenced her.

Remy stood victoriously above her, hands sitting on his hips as he whipped out a wide Cajun grin onto his gloating face. His moment of glory was spoiled however as he was ruthlessly pushed in after Jean by Scott seconds later. In consequence, Summers ended up last man standing from the caper, and was no less proud of it than the old thief had been. Asher splashed noisily amidst the watery mess Remy had made, giggling at the adults as they mucked about like children.

Rogue continued to watch from the sidelines with them, laughing and letting Remy know that he deserved everything he got for that one. Now six months gone into her own pregnancy, her bump was growing as quickly as Asher had and excused her from all poolside horseplay. This in turn meant she was also free to call out whatever insults she liked at her beloved husband and revenge was out of the question. She loved it.

After watching for a while she blew a quiet, content sigh and turned back to Ororo, just as Remy dragged his lanky body back out the pool on the hunt for Summers.

"Ah think ah finally got Remy over the idea of givin' the baby a name beginning with 'R'. That and Remy Junior if it's a boy."

Ororo laughed, shaking her head at the memories of countless nights with the couple arguing in the living room about the now touchy subject long into the early morning. Rogue's sleep patterns had become the very nightmare Remy had dreaded, in that a pattern no longer existed for them. She could very well go from dusk till dawn defending the notion that they were not going to become 'The Three Rs', without batting an eyelid of fatigue. As a result it seemed she had won her fight. Ororo was in favour of her victory.

"He's goin' through a 'French name' stage now."

Ororo raised an eyebrow, not sure if that was a good thing or not, then turned her sights to Asher who had grabbed a corner of the towel and was now waving it about triumphantly.

"So what names do you have from that?"

"Well Remy likes Marc, with a 'c', for a boy and Sasha for a girl. Now Sasha ah suppose ah like, but Marc ah'm not so sure about. See ah was kinda wantin' something a little… different, y' know?"

Ororo nodded in understanding, aware of the fact that Asher was not exactly on the top ten list of favourite girls' names in America.

"Well I had Asya and Zebadic in line for boy's names, but I don't know if they're very French. In fact I think Asya might be Russian. And I only ever liked the name Asher for a girl so actually I don't think I'm much help here. Sorry."

Rogue waved her hand dismissively. "Nah, it's okay. We'll figure out something… eventually."

With a soft thud Asher fell onto her back, bewildered as to where the corner of the towel had gone after it slipped out her tiny hand. She peered carefully into the sky, but it wasn't there. Ororo picked her up gently, turner her round to face her and placed her between her knees.

"Not _quite_ mastered sitting up yet, have we."

Asher blinked up at her mum, confused as to how she had gotten here.

Rogue smiled widely at the adorable display. "She's just too damn cute. Here, let me see her over."

Ororo lifted her again and handed her over to Rogue who herself lifted her up in the air above her belly.

Asher giggled furiously, kicking out gleefully and scrunching up her face in a wide smile as Rogue made faces back at her. Then she sat the baby carefully on her bump, holding her there securely and tickling her under the chin.

Ororo watched with a wonderful feeling of pride for her one and only daughter, and the best any mother could ever ask for.

With the slapping of wet feet against the concrete around the poolside Remy came bounding over with his endless energy onto the grass, skidding to a halt in front of Rogue and then dropping down beside her. His face was draped with long wet hair and his alluring red eyes poked out between a fringe in dire need of a trim. He pointed to Asher then looked at Ororo.

"Y' know she stolen yo' fille 'Ro?"

The two women then jumped to shield themselves as Remy shook his dripping wet hair all over them. Rogue slapped him on the shoulder with her free hand.

"Remy ya big fool! You'll soak the baby!"

Asher just giggled. It wasn't any secrete that the baby adored Remy. With another leap of energy Remy got up again, taking Asher with him this time.

"Ashy don' mind, do ya? Non, 'course you don', Aunty Rogue's just bein' a big fuss pot."

Asher pushed herself away from Remy to get a better look at who had her this time. He pulled his own head back as she did, blinking down at her as she did up at him. Then she giggled again.

"She ever stop laughin' Stormy?"

Ororo shook her head. "No. Well yes, at night. _That's_ when she decides to cry."

Remy blew raspberries at Asher who in turn pawed at his chest.

"Come on petite, how 'bout we go say bonjour to Missouri Grumpy Logan. Can you say bonjour yet? Or Missouri Grumpy Logan?"

Rogue shook her head, sighing with wonderment as Remy left with Asher. "Ah'd go get her back if ah were you, ah seriously would."

Ororo thought about it for a second then shrugged.

"As long as he doesn't dive bomb into the pool with her then she should be okay."

"'Should' bein' the operative word an' all that."

For the next ten minutes Rogue put on an impressive display of concern across her face as she winced every time Remy took that extra step closer to the pool with Asher, or tensed every time he taunted Scott to the point where he might become tempted to severely splash the man, regardless of his precious package.

But the more Rogue saw Remy with Asher, playing with her, making her smile and laugh and look upon him with unbeknown love, the more she felt herself smiling inside and imagining what he would be like with their own child, as a father.

"You know there is one name ah really like, for a boy anyway."

Ororo looked away from Remy and Asher and back to Rogue.

"Yes?"

"Well… ah always liked the name Lupin."

Ororo paused for a moment, turning it over in her head, before declaring, "Lupin. Yes, I like that, it's a very unusual name."

Rogue nodded. "Wonder if Remy'll like it?"

Ororo sighed. "In a way, I guess I was lucky, not having a man to debate all these things with."

Rogue looked upon her with sympathy, noting the subtle tone of longing in her friend's gentle voice.

"Yeah you were lucky, very lucky."

Ororo just agreed. Rogue then went off in thought, lost and happy in her own world of parenthood-to-come.

_----------------------_

Dinner rolled around early evening time, hectic and competitive as always with the heavy scent of Scott's outstanding cooking drifting through the mansion along with the sharp smell of spices that Remy and Logan so dearly loved on almost anything put in front of them on a plate. Asher sat on her mother's lap, desperate to grab something off the large wooden table to play with, or more precisely to make a mess with.

"I just fed you, you rascal. Come on, sit nice now."

With a gentle swing Ororo lifted her baby off her lap and placed her into her highchair, eventually letting her play about with a nice clean leaf of lettuce.

At the other end of the table sat Jean and Scott, huddled together like two hushed teenagers in the midst of sweet young love, whispering rather obviously between themselves as if everything they did and said had to be a well known, closely guarded secrete to everyone else. Ororo looked at them with an amused glint in her eye.

They had been like this almost all day, and all of yesterday, and she was sure also the day before that. She knew they were desperate to share something, even Asher probably knew that, but at the same time painfully reluctant, as if perhaps worried they would jink their big news.

Finally from the middle of the table Logan growled slightly just as he put down the salt.

"Okay Red, Slim, out with it."

Both looked up abruptly at him, as if they had just been accused of something entirely not their fault, but they were met by a table full of expectant faces. Jean blushed slightly and Scott became the one to speak for them.

"Well I suppose they should be told by now. Jean, are you ready?"

There was a moment of hesitation from the red head before she finally nodded, and they could all see as plainly as they could smell the tobacco sauce from Remy's plate the restrained overflow of excitement in their eyes at whatever it was they had to say.

"Well you know how the doctors said a few weeks ago that together Jean and myself couldn't have a baby, not naturally anyway," Scott started. He could hardly contain his frighteningly wide smile anymore, and by now the other four had all obtained a pretty good idea of what the news was about to be. Still they remained in suspense as they held back their awaiting congratulations.

"Well we just made medical history, I think; we're having a baby!"

There was a sudden burst of mayhem across the table as Scott stood up to receive a downpour of hearty hugs and thorough hand shakes of well done at the news of the third baby to now be making its way into the retired X-Men family.

Logan grunted the old chant, "It's like waitin' for a bus…" while Remy jumped about looking for the nearest bottle of Champaign, pestered by Rogue behind him to find their very finest set of glasses.

Jean remained sat at the table, staring across at Ororo as they engaged in mental conversation.

Can you believe it?

Of course I can. You two both deserve it.

Jean smiled, expecting nothing less than that kind of answer from her dearest friend.

Nearly four years we've been trying for a baby, and just when the doctors said it was impossible, we got our miracle.

Ororo put her chin in her right hand, stroking Asher's delicate head of hair with the other and shrugged, smiling with Jean.

It's your reward for a lifetime of struggle.

Just then Logan's hand came down on Jean's shoulder and she broke the mental link.

"Congratulations Jeannie. You're finally gonna be a mum, an' 'bout time too."

She turned round and took Logan's hand in her own, smiling gently, eyes dampened ever so slightly with tears.

"Thanks."

He nodded then moved to confront Scott, talking quietly and gruffly as he did.

"Kinda makes me feel bad for all the hassle ah ever caused you two."

Scott quickly dismissed his guilt with a beaming smile.

"Don't worry about it. Just don't go taking her away anymore, eh?" Scott smiled some more, then caught a fleeting glance of Logan's towards Ororo's direction.

"Yeah Cyk, she's all yours."

_----------------------_

It was late. Ororo was painfully aware of it as she paced the attic floor with Asher in hand as the little baby screamed relentless tears throughout the night, for the countless night in a row.

"Please Asher, go back to sleep. Come on honey, go back to sleep."

She rocked her gently as she patted her back, trying in all ways desperately to settle her into a lull, but Asher simply went on crying, as if determined not to give in to her mother's whims.

Ororo had surpassed exhaustion. This was one of a long line of nights where she had suffered from very little to no sleep. She could hide the results of this torture during the day; clear her eyes up with fresh rainwater and keep herself wrapped in a constant cooling breeze, which kept her somewhat refreshed. She could even go for walks around the grounds, letting Remy watch the baby much to his delight, and nap in the woods or in one of her greenhouses, somewhere out of the way where she wouldn't be discovered.

But at night it became a very different story. Her eyes were bloodshot and her face ashen, covered with limp, greasy hair that hung lifelessly over heavy slouched shoulders. Her bare feet dragged as she paced the wooden floor and her voice was rough and strained. Her very words sounded like they were bleeding, and she could barely swallow for how dry her whole mouth was. She had become the epiphany of the single mother, and not because she was alone, but because she was too proud and too scared to ask anyone for help.

She admitted to a smidgen of self-pity as she loathed over how there was no father to help her here, no one to let her sleep whilst he went off and soothed their tear strung daughter; no one. She was alone and wouldn't admit to anything less.

As Asher carried on screaming, the heart wrenching sound muffled to the rest of the house by the soundproofing in the doors, she remembered feeling like this once before, a long time ago now. The time when Forge had left her. She frowned, the thought leaving a bitter streak of confused anger in her frayed emotions.

"Where are you now maker?" she exclaimed suddenly, frightening Asher as she challenged thin air. "Off to lead a life as far away from the 'tied down' woman you once called your lover? Gone away because you weren't' priorities over _everything_ else in my life?"

Asher cried harder, Ororo with her.

"Where are you!"

The attic door behind her swung open slowly and for a brief, shocked second she fancied Forge walking in, apologetic and meek, eyes as bloodshot as hers and pained with eternal guilt. But instead it was Logan.

Ororo looked down at her daughter's weeping face shamefully as he entered.

"Havin' a rough night darlin'?"

She gave him a small nod.

For a silent moment Logan looked from the desperate mother to her tear strung daughter. He saw before him a needlessly common sight – a new mother too afraid to ask for help lest she let others believe she was anything but capable of her new full time job. A new mother's face lined with meek shame because she felt she had failed her maternal instincts, and was some monstrous freak of the female race who could not even fulfil the simplest task of soothing her child's tears at night.

With the greatest respect for his old friend he extended his arms out. "Here, ah'll take her, you get some rest tonight. You need it."

For a second she looked confused, then gravely hesitant, as if doing this – handing over her child to someone else's care – would be to admit to all the fears Logan saw within her reddened eyes of being a terrible mother. But then in coming to her senses (somewhat) she handed over her daughter and thanked him repeatedly.

"Just get some sleep 'Ro, I'll take good care of your little girl."

As Ororo began to feel the full effect of weeks of built up fatigue, she vaguely registered the touch of a gently laid hand on her shoulder. It steered her towards her unmade bed, where she automatically sat down. Slowly her heavy eyes looked up at Logan who sat a whimpering Asher on his hip. He nodded once and then smiled slightly.

Moving over to the doorway he only had to turn back once to see Ororo had fallen asleep almost instantly.

Logan hurried slightly down the attic stairs as he sensed Asher ready for another bawling match. Sweeping through the mansion's silent ground floor they found themselves in the utility room as Logan hunted around for warmer clothes for Asher to wear.

"Okay Ash, ah'm gonna take you out to meet someone an' we're gonna give your mum a break for the night. If that's alright with you of course."

She had begun to cry again, but not so loudly as she watched Logan with teary curiosity taking out some clothes from a washing basket and carefully sitting her on top of the tumble drier, dressing her for the cool night air.

As soon as he was finished he gently picked her up again and walked out of the mansion, saying not another word, with his small bundle held protectively close in his arms.

----------------------

The walk to Frank's Bar took a little longer than it usually would for Logan as he shuffled through the main streets, but it was a considerably safer route than his normal trek through back streets and restaurant alleyways.

The cooling air of the night seemed to sooth the little baby and her cries fell to quiet gurgles and hiccups as she took in her surroundings with as much curiosity as she had Logan when watching him dressed her back at the mansion. She chewed on her fingers almost thoughtfully and drooled over Logan as he carried her and talked to her on the way.

"Better now? See, nothin' to go cryin' about. Ah think ah can introduce you to Frank now. Good man Frank, you'll like him as much as he'll like you."

After another ten minutes of deserted streets and silent roads Logan came to a stop on the sidewalk and Asher found herself looking up with him at a small building that now stood before them. It was a long and narrow diner establishment with faded chequered eating booths and a dull, beer-stained bar. It was barely lit inside and seemed reluctantly opened, as only two shadows lurked within the otherwise deserted building, and no one else was stepping in or out of the door (although in all fairness there seemed no one else around in this dead hour of the early morning to do so).

Logan went ahead and opened the door to the place dubbed 'Frank's Bar' and the light twinkling noise of wind chimes alerted the very owner of the place to his new late night customers. Almost immediately the man's face creased into a smile of delight.

"Ah Mr Logan! How good to see you again." His wizened grey eyes quickly fell upon Asher. "And I see you've brought a friend with you this time."

The barman beamed wider still as he surveyed the little one.

"Well sit her up here and let us see that pretty little face of yours princess."

Frank quickly wiped a spot of the worn and stained bar counter with an old cloth slung over his wide shoulder and Logan gently set Asher down, still holding onto her back so she could sit up and carry on looking around in what seemed like amazed curiosity.

Suddenly, from a far corner booth there was a squeal of delight and in the bounding form of a lanky blonde strapped up in a tight green boob tube, orange mini skirt and killer blue stiletto heels, the second shadow that Logan had seen lurking inside as he had stood out on the street came into view. He turned around as best he could while still supporting Asher and nodded as he recognised the presence.

"Michelle, how're you?"

She smiled as widely as Frank and kissed Logan squarely on the cheek.

"Absolutely fine doll. An' who's this here? She's not yours is she?"

A stern look fell upon the woman's face and she pouted her cherry red lips as if she were ready to wag her finger at him in a motherly fashion, but Logan just shook his head.

"No she's the daughter of the friend I told you about."

Michelle's face turned slightly grave at this. For a year now she had been listening in to the conversations of Frank and Logan, the ones almost always dominated by just the one subject and Logan's desire to find information out about only the one man. Michelle herself was the only other known current survivor of that man's random and brutal attacks.

"Oh yeah, Aurora, was it?"

"Ororo."

There was no one around tonight, so Logan didn't need to keep his head down and his voice hushed as he discussed the matter with the couple.

Michelle then dove straight into pouring all her affection and attention over Asher, who seemed to have taken a mutual liking to the woman.

"Y' know, lookin' at her kinda makes me wish I'd kept my own. She's an absolute doll."

Logan picked up a now giggling Asher and handed her over to Michelle, whose face lit up as she keenly took hold of her.

"No shame in what ye did 'Chelle."

She cried out again in delight as she held Asher high over her head, much to the baby's joy. "Aw you are just a complete sweetheart, aren't you darlin'?"

Asher blew a bubble and Michelle laughed with delight some more.

Logan took a seat at the bar and accepted a complimentary beer from Frank. Frank then leant over the long wooden bench to talk. "So where is the mum?"

"Asleep back at the mansion, finally. That little 'sweetheart's' had her mum up for the past few weeks now screaming her head off for no good reason. Seemed there was nothin' she could do to stop her so I offered to take her out for a while, give Ororo a break so she can get her head together and go back to doin' the best job as a mother that ah've ever seen done."

"And you decided to bring her out here at one in the morning, to this neighbourhood…"

"Ah won't let anything happen to her. You know that."

Michelle turned her mascara-clad blue eyes back to Logan.

"Hell you better not. Nothin' worse than a mother's wrath. That goes for almost any beast, you mutants included. Ah'd hate to see what one of your women could do if anything happened to their baby."

She smiled down at Asher again as she made a grab for one of Michelle's numerous gold necklaces. She dangled a golden eagle claw in front of her wide blue eyes, almost hypnotising her with it. Logan was left imagining what the wrath of Storm would do to him if anything were to go wrong tonight…

"She's got incredible eyes, and white hair too. It's amazing, never seen anything like it, well anything natural like it anyway."

Logan smiled fondly. "Takes them from her mother."

There was a moment of silence from Michelle as her gaze seemed to become unfocused and her brow furrowed in difficult thought. Logan tilted his head and watched her, Frank with him as he absent-mindedly cleaned another beer glass.

Then suddenly she jumped back to the moment and point at Logan. Logan raised an eyebrow, half curious, half amused.

"Y' know Logan, I think I saw a woman like that before, a while ago now. It's just you don't often forget a woman like that. That why I'm remembering. Real tall, hair was quite long too. She was with a red head, a pretty girl, but a bit pale."

Logan's eyebrows dipped in a frown, his eyes darkening in thought. "A while ago? How longs 'a while'?" He was growing an instinctive feeling about this.

"Oh, a long while ago now. Must have been last year, I can hardly remember, only recall what she looked like really, and her pretty companion. I'm only remembering 'cause of your little friend here, and 'cause like I said, you don't often forget a woman like that. Yeah, last year some time. Why?"

Logan couldn't shake his instincts now; they'd stuck firm and true. He was almost never wrong about his hunches anyway.

"Was it late at night?"

Michelle shrugged. A look of suspicion was creeping onto her face as she began to grow absent minded of Asher and cautious of what Logan was getting at.

"Yeah, probably. Must have been working that night. Yeah in fact I was, so it was at night. I was on the corner at the Milo Club, across from the department store. That's where they came out from. The place was shutting up for the night." Michelle seemed quietly impressed with her memory, prompting her to go on. "I think they ended up with some sort of 'male companion', if you like, though it looking more like an ex-lover the way they were tryin' to walk away from him…"

And finally it clicked. Michelle's face fell then paled.

"Em, Natalie was with me that night. Maybe you could talk to her, she has a killer memory. Tells me she never forgets a face, which is unfortunate in our business."

Logan nodded, seeming pleased with this new bout of information, and his new lead. He took Asher from Michelle, who protested as the eagle claw was taken from her tiny hand, and Logan wished his late night companions a goodnight.

"It's been good seein' you again Michelle. Tell Natalie ah might be dropping by soon, and she's not to be scared of me this time. "

Michelle nodded. "Will do. And you bring that little baby back here one day. And tell the mum I actually know what she's been through, and I'm always up for a chat. See ya sweetheart."

Asher watched Michelle still with stunned eyes, and Logan nodded again in Frank's direction.

"See y' Frank."

He waved as Logan left the bar for the mansion. Asher fell asleep in his arms on the way home.

----------------------

Logan came back home twenty minutes later to almost everyone in the mansion asleep. It was his immediate plan to join them, and to let Asher share a bed with him, just this once for the sake of Ororo's sanity.

Asher herself had remained asleep the whole way home in his arms. She looked like a gem really, hardy stirring or making a noise, and Logan couldn't help grinning at her.

"Yer a menace you are. Y' know that?"

She made a little hiccup, but did not wake

Then Logan spotted it, the door ajar to the living room and light spilling out from inside. He looked at Asher, then longingly up the stairs to where his bedroom was, and then moved forward into the living room.

He stepped in quietly, and saw not who had expected to see, but instead Jean sitting on the plush red couch with her eyes glazed over in a distant stare as if her mind was far away from her body. He uttered a small cough and she jumped, quickly coming to her senses.

"Logan! I didn't see you there. And Asher?"

He walked over and sat on the couch beside her.

"I'm giving 'Ro the night off."

Jean nodded, reaching a gentle hand out to stroke Asher's soft face. "She is quite loud when she wants to be."

He shifted his hold on the baby, settling himself into the couch.

"What you doin' down here so late?"

Jean shrugged half-heartedly. "Couldn't sleep I suppose."

"You suppose?"

"Yeah." Jean looked uncomfortable, and pale.

Logan looked over her carefully, "Well y' don't look too happy for a woman who just defied the laws of baby makin'."

There was a glint of a tear in her thoughtful green eyes as she looked down at Asher which Logan barely just caught sight of.

"I think that's the problem. I mean if the all reports and the tests are anything to go by then I simply should not be pregnant. Scott and I were even going to adopt as soon as we admitted defeat, because it was in the realms of impossible. But now here I am defying all that, and as happy as I should be I keep asking myself the same question, 'Will I stay this lucky?'"

Logan ran a hand through his thick dark hair, thinking.

"Well y' should, for nine months anyway, maybe even a little less if we carry on the trend of early babies."

Jean laughed, almost as if the idea was ridiculous, that she would indeed stay 'lucky' for that.

"Look Jean, ah'm no great believer in God or anything, but ah think if you weren't meant to have this baby then He wouldn't have given it to ya. You and Scott are gonna have it, whether you believe in it or not." Logan tilted his head. "What does Scott think anyway?"

Jean smiled fondly. "He's already thinking of names."

Asher kicked in her sleep and began to grow restless of being bundled up in someone's arms.

"I should probably get her t' bed. Just have a little faith Jean, okay? You and Scott of all the couples in the world deserve this baby more than anyone else, and you're gonna have it, so enjoy it."

He got up and Jean nodded to him slowly.

"G'dnight then, Jean."

"Goodnight Logan."

----------------------

Three Months Later

Rogue was fed up far beyond belief. Lying sprawled out across the lounge's plush red sofa she held a cold soft drink in one hand and the television remote fiercely in the other. An unflattering pale lilac jumper covered her vast belly, and she watched it loathingly. Today was the eighteenth of November. She had been due on the seventeenth. However it seemed at this rate she would be delivering on Christmas.

The lounge door suddenly swung open and Rogue found she was all but ready to throw the glass of juice at whomever it was daring to enter her domain, until she caught sight of Asher crawling in at a tremendous speed across the floor. Her screwed up expression softened as she got up and with a heave seized the runaway in her arms.

"How'd you get in here y' little rogue?"

Ororo came running in seconds later, frantic looking to say the least.

"Ah believe this may be yours 'Ro."

She handed the baby back to her relieved mother.

"Last time I leave you alone with Remy, I promise this time."

Asher giggled at her mum's mock anger.

"I know you understand me. I shouldn't have named you Asher, I should have named you after your Aunty Rogue. Of whom I see is still pregnant."

Ororo let a teasing smile play across her face, despite the danger of doing so.

"Ah'm warning ya Storm, ah'm on the edge here."

Ororo sat down on a couch opposite the sofa Rogue dropped back down onto.

"Would have been kinda nice if the baby'd been born exactly six months after yours."

Ororo let her teasing smile fall to a sympathetic one. "So you don't think the baby's coming today?"

Rogue heaved a sigh and quite simply answered, "I know it aint comin' today."

And she was right.

Hank had taken the next few days off work and set himself up in one of the mansions many spare bedrooms, not daring to take any chances this time after what had happened with Ororo.

He now, with Remy, walked into the lounge smiling brightly as he always did.

The second Asher caught sight of him she began to squirm in her mother's arms, reaching out desperately for him. Ororo handed her over and she sat in his arms, pulling at the deep blue fur curiously, eyes transfixed.

"I always did say the women dug the fur."

Rogue sat back up again as Remy sat himself at her feet, her face that of desperation.

"Hank ah don't wanna to be pregnant anymore!"

He looked up from Asher, who he had been entertaining with funny noises, and laughed sympathetically.

"No I don't suppose you do, but at least you're prepared." He shot a sideways glance at Ororo who crossed her arms.

Remy smiled happily. "Well y' know what dey say can set off a woman's labour; dey say se—"

"Shut up! Ah'm not talking to you; you're the one that got me into this mess!"

Ignoring her he put an ear to his wife's belly as if maybe that would set off her labour.

"Hello, petite? You in der?"

Rogue slapped him on the back of the head.

"Of course he's in there, he just knows you're out here."

Remy made to look hurt but ended up with a twisted smile as he tried to control the corners of his mouth from going up.

"Oh well, you de one pregnant, not me."

He dodged niftily as Rogue went to slap him again, harder. Then she lay back down, closing her eyes over as if praying for mercy. No doubt she was.

"Suppose ah'll just have to play the waiting game then."

And she did.

The nineteenth rolled around and still nothing happened.

Rogue became the number one to avoid as her temper flared unpredictably and she grew a tendency to throw things. Heavy things. Mainly at her husband.

Remy now donned a beautiful purple bruise on the side of his head for instance from when she had chucked a well-aimed book of baby names down the stairs at him. The name for their child was still undecided and Remy had been leaning back towards Remy Junior again. Rogue however had made sure he leaned far away from it from now on.

----------------------

It was nine o'clock in the morning on the twentieth of November that everything finally happened all at once and all hell suddenly broke loose, for Remy anyway.

Rogue awoke to find her bed sheets drenched, turned to Remy who was still sleeping, shook him until his bleary red eyes opened and said quite calmly—

"Remy, ma waters just broke."

In an instant he was up and out of bed, telling Rogue to stay calm in a frantic voice as he advanced on the door to run out and get Henry. He was pale and from out of nowhere covered in a sweat, his hands shaking as he grappled with the door handle.

"Em Remy, suga', you aint wearing any clothes."

Looking down at himself he blushed slightly, then grabbed a pair of shorts and thrusts them on hastily, eventually making it out the bedroom door. She could hear him bellowing all the way down the hallway, more than likely managing to wake the other five occupants up as he went. She couldn't help but smile. For the first time in almost a week she felt calm and settled, even if she knew it wouldn't last.

Remy was back with Henry in mere minutes, and the scientist of many fields looked considerably calmer than her dear husband as he slid quickly back beside her in bed.

"Ah Rogue, the day has finally come. How do you feel? Are you quite happy here or would you like to be moved down to the medical wing?"

Rogue thought briefly. "Well if it's okay ah'd prefer just to stay up here."

"That shouldn't be a problem. Now Remy, go get some towels like you did for Ororo and maybe a couple more pillows. And perhaps calm down; I assure you your wife and child-to-be are in very experienced and capable hands."

Hank smiled and Remy curled his lips up into the most disturbing sort of smile Rogue herself had ever seen. He did as he was told though and scooted off to the laundry room.

Hank then spent the next ten minutes checking over Rogue, her condition and her progress.

"Well it doesn't look like we'll be having a quick delivery like our resident goddess did. You'll just have to sit tight and wait through the contractions. Might I suggest you keep a good book with you, or perhaps bring up a couple of movies from the lounge to watch with Remy?"

Rogue sighed and rolled her eyes. "This baby knows how to take his time."

"His? Did you find out the sex?"

She shook her head. "For talking sake."

"Oh." He smiled again. "Well I'll come in and check on you every half hour or so, okay? But if you need me before then just holler. Now you sure you're fine?"

"Yes Hank, ah'm fine."

"Good, good. I'll let Remy do the fussing for now then. Remember, just holler if you need anything."

Remy came back as Henry left, arms piled up with more towels and pillows than was probably ever going to be necessary, unless her labour was to last until the end of the month.

"Where he be off to?"

Rogue smiled and stroked Remy's cheek. "You're cute when you worry."

He dropped the towels on his half of the bed and began propping Rogue up with the pillows.

"Anything happen yet?"

"No not—" suddenly she paused with a perplexing expression across her face. Then she looked up at Remy. "Oh, ah think ah just had a contraction."

Remy frowned. "Was that it? Ah thought they were suppos' t' be painful an' 'orrible and such."

Rogue sighed patiently.

"They grow longer an' more frequent an' more painful as the labour moves on. Y' know, Ororo was right; ya don't have a clue when it comes to this pregnancy business."

Remy looked hurt. "'Ro said that?"

Rogue couldn't help but laugh. "Well not as bluntly as that, but along those lines, yeah."

Remy decided to go back to fussing in silence.

----------------------

Six long and tedious hours passed by and in that time the most progress that Rogue made was that her contractions lengthened and her discomfort and impatience grew.

She had frequent visitors and as the seventh hour rolled around Ororo could be found sitting on Remy's side of the bed with Asher at her knees contently throwing a towel over her head then pulling it back off again.

"So, seven hours and still no straining yet."

"Seven hours and ah'm gonna kill Remy next time he props ma pillows up. 'Till death do us part'; well that could be in the next few hours ah'm thinkin'."

Ororo smiled sympathetically, as everyone seemed to be doing of late around her. "At least he's gone out for a while."

"You wanna know what ah had t' threaten him with if he didn't go?"

Ororo shook her head. "No that's okay."

Then, abruptly Rogue's hand jerked, instinctively touching on her large bump as the next contraction began. Her other hand, without really thinking about it, grabbed Ororo's and squeezed as a way of channelling the slowly growing pain. Ororo gave a little yelp of pain with her.

The second the contraction past Rogue let go, looking ever so slightly guilty. Ororo smiled shakily.

"You forget your own strength Rogue."

She shook her hand as Rogue apologised sheepishly.

"It's okay. I know what it's like. Well… no I don't really but I know how the most painful part of it feels."

Asher giggled as if finding both women's pain amusing.

"You got a crude sense of humour suga'."

Asher just giggled some more.

"She stopped cryin' at nights then?"

Ororo stroked her daughter's soft white hair tenderly.

"Just about. Whatever it was before she seems to have settled down now over the past few months."

Asher began to crawl about the bed over Rogue's legs and Ororo quickly scooped her up, settling her in her arms.

"As soon as she learns to walk I don't think I'll be able to keep up."

Rogue smiled fondly at the six-month-old baby.

"It'll be nice for her t' have someone t' play with an' grow up with."

"Yes, let her play big sister even—"

Suddenly the baby began to squirm and kick and then promptly cry.

"Or not. I think she needs changing.

"Oh don't let me stop you."

"Be prepared, these pleasant jobs await you."

Ororo began to get up as Asher kicked harder in discomfort, crying louder.

"See you later Rogue, maybe next time with your baby."

As she left these words seemed to strike a chord in Rogue's mind and a reality she hadn't quite looked at before came to life. She was going to be a mother, in a matter of hours. She and Remy were finally going to have what they had dreamed of having for a long time now. They were going to have their very own family. They were going to have a baby, and give their child something they themselves growing up had never had, loving parents always at their side. And they were going to do it well.

Suddenly she felt herself filling up with a surge of emotions and a little bit of shock, and she only wished she hadn't threatened Remy with the baby book again if he hadn't gone out to get her ice-cream.

----------------------

It was a further hideous eight long and uncomfortable hours before anything really began to happen.

Remy had just walked into the bedroom with fresh ice chips for his wife, poking his head round the door timidly in a bid not to have things thrown at him again, although Rogue had seemed to become more sympathetic with him, even more… loving, again. However, he barely had a foot in when she let out a sharp cry of pain and told him with a howl to go and get Hank.

The two were back minutes later and Hank quickly summarised the situation; quite simply Rogue was finally ready to give birth.

"Okay Rogue, time to start pushing."

"Well it's about bloody well time!"

Hank just smiled. "Okay Remy, just you sit with Rogue; you don't have to do too much except be good and supportive."

Rogue glared darkly at Remy. "Moral support Cajun, not more pillows y' hear?"

Remy had gone into a state of ecstasy and he suddenly lost all fear for his wife for an overwhelming anticipation and joy over what was about to happen. He simply shrugged at her remark and threw her a lopsided smile, sitting at her side and gently taking her hand. For a moment Rogue's own heated expression slipped away as she gazed across at him, and shared his nervous excitement with a small smile of her own.

But then she threw her head back and howled again as she felt the strain of the labour prompting her to push with all her tearful might.

For one long painful hour Rogue pushed with all the energy and will she could bring forth, but just like everything else that had led up to this, nothing was happening fast.

In tears and as white as the sweat drained sheets around her, she let her head fall back onto the stack of pillows behind her, uttering a chocked cry of desperation for someone to bring it all to an end. Remy stroked her damp hair gently, looking down at Henry with his anxiety clear in his face.

"Hank, when's it comin'?"

"Nearly there, I promise. Come on Rogue, just keep pushing."

Achingly she obeyed, gritting her teeth this time as she tried again.

"Good girl, now keep it up. I think I see it, almost there, come on."

With only pure desperate determination left to keep her going she pushed with all that was left in her and suddenly Henry cried out:

"I have the head! Remy throw me over some towels."

Henry was handed about six in a frenzy and he took two, held out ready now.

Quickly grabbing her husband's hand as he sat down beside her again, Rogue gripped on with such force now that something cracked, just as the baby was finally delivered.

Remy screamed and Rogue screamed, and then finally, after a few seconds there were tiny, determined screams from their newborn child.

"It's a boy! Rogue, Remy, you've got a boy!"

Rogue let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a cry as she finally relaxed her grip on Remy and fell back again into the pillows.

"I think it be broke."

Confused, both looked at Remy who, sure enough, held up two broken fingers.

But he easily forgot his pain as a beaming Henry handed over their newborn son to them, and Rogue was allowed to hold him for the first time.

With the rush of adrenalin gone and her own pain disappeared amidst a surge of overwhelmed emotion, she began to cry with her son, tears of ecstasy flooding her face with Remy's as he put a hand to his mouth, mind reeling as he looked down at his son.

"You did it chere, we got our baby."

All she could do was nod as she cuddled her son and Remy stroked his head with his good hand.

"You took you' time garson, but you be worth it all, ah c'n tell y'."

Then suddenly the pain shot back into his left hand and he winced, reluctantly grabbing it with the other.

"Come on oh newest of the brotherhood of fathers, let's go fix your wife-beaten hand."

With great reluctance he left, kissing both wife and son on the forehead and lingering as long as possible until Hank all but carried him out before he did so. Hank himself had full confidence that both mother and son would be fine on their own for a little while to bond for the first time (and that is would take not much longer than five minutes before the rest of the mansion joined them anyway.)

Not much longer than five minutes later four eager grinning mutants and one completely unaware baby girl came spilling into the large bedroom to crowd around Rogue and finally behold the newest residence to their New York city home.

Jean sat next to Rogue and looked down at her precious bundle, near to tears herself.

"Boy or a girl?"

"A boy."

She smiled again with the others, Scott's hand resting on her shoulder as he quietly sniffed, even Logan looking a little misty eyed at the back. Ororo bent down with Asher and let her have a look at what could be become her very first friend. Promptly she went to grab at anything she might be able to get her tiny hands on, but Ororo held her back just far enough so she couldn't reach, frustratingly for her.

"It's okay 'Ro, sit beside Jean, let her get a better look at her new brother… of sorts."

From behind the small crowd Logan smiled, shaking his head.

"Brother, cute."

Ororo moved over and sat Asher beside Rogue's lap, letting her have a look at the tiny baby boy. Her eyes fixed on to him with devoted fascination.

Suddenly Scott looked around, confused. "Where's Remy?"

At this Rogue couldn't help but laugh. "Eh, ah might'a kinda… broke two of his fingers during the delivery."

The four exchanged glance and left it at that.

Rogue went back to pouring over her son.

"You're the most damn beautiful thing that ah've ev'a laid ma pretty green eyes on, an' that includes your father. Oh you really are." Then Rogue frowned thoughtfully. "Still haven't got a name for ya though."

She looked up at the others, the smallest hint of a furtive smile coming across her face as she looked at Ororo knowingly.

"How 'bout we see what your daddy thinks of Lupin then, eh?"

Ororo smiled, nodding her approval. Jean reached over and stroked the delicate head of the settled baby.

"Lupin huh? I like that."

"What about Lupin?"

They turned to see Remy standing in the doorway, cast literally in hand. All turned to Rogue.

"D' y' like the name Lupin, 'cause ah think that's what your son should be called."

It wasn't really a question, more of an informative statement.

He stood for a second in the doorway, the others watching expectantly, and then his face broke into a grin so wide it looked like it hurt before he sat on the edge of the bed beside Rogue.

"Lupin, Lupin LeBeau. Ah'd say it's perfect."


End file.
